The Cost of Sight
by NoNameForHire
Summary: It has been many years since Serana was locked away. In that time, the Dragonborn has risen. Except...he's not who people expect him to be. Nathan is blind, but he uses magic to see. When he frees Serana from her prison, Lord Harkon offers him vampirism—and the cure for Nathan's blindness—as a reward. But Nathan quickly realizes that the cost of sight might be more than he can pay.
1. Chapter 1

**All right, guys! This is my first story published on this account. Fingers crossed I don't muck it up with this story.**

 **So I've always loved Skyrim ( _especially_ the Dawnguard DLC), and I have a *cough* slight fixation on it. But that turns out to be a good thing, because that means I can share this fic with y'all!**

 **So here's my disclaimer, blah blah blah: nobody except my guy Guy is owned by me. If I did own Skyrim, I would be crazy rich and not with 11 dollars in my bank account currently.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Serana, quickly!"

Serana stumbled over a stone but kept going. Why did her mother have to pick such a maze-like hiding place? Serana had already forgotten the way out. If it hadn't been for her vampiric sight, she would have long since lost her mother in the dark of Dimhollow Crypt.

"Mother, I'm coming!" Serana hissed, nearly falling head-first down the massive steps. She understood the urgency, but wasn't the goal to make sure that she was still in one piece?

Serana wasn't usually this clumsy. In fact, she was the _least_ clumsy vampire in Castle Volkihar. But the weight of the Elder Scroll on her back—it had to weigh twenty pounds at least!—slowed her down and threw off her balance. If her mother would just slow down for _one second_ …

They continued to run in the darkness, and Serana vaguely registered the large arches that they passed in their haste. She would have loved to stay and explore more, but they didn't have time.

Of course, if all went to plan, she would have all the time in the world to spend in this crypt. Not that she would be able to explore, or anything.

"Here," her mother said breathlessly, coming to a stop before a large stone monolith. It was taller than Serana was and seemed to be hollowed out, leaving a space just big enough for a person to fit inside. Placing a large stepping stone next to it, her mother stepped up and examined some sort of device placed on top of the monolith.

"Serana, place your hand over the blood seal," Valerica told her daughter, stepping off of the stone and allowing Serana a place to stand.

Serana did as she was told, standing on top of the makeshift-stepping stool and placing her hand over a small, circular device set on top of the tomb.

 _Shink!_

White hot pain tore through her as a blade shot through her hand, spilling dark red blood all over the top of the tomb. Some small part of her brain that could function through the pain tried to tear her hand away, but the pain only increased. She realized, through the haze of pain in her mind, that the scream cutting through the cavern was her own.

And then, as quickly as it began, the blade had retreated back into the monolith. Serana stumbled backwards, but her mother caught her. Through the tears, Serana could see her mother holding a glowing golden light over her hand. Instantly the pain faded, though it took longer before she could think clearly again.

"I am sorry," Valerica said, sounding only partly sorry. "It was the only way. I've healed you, but I've always been rubbish with Restoration magic."

Serana glanced down at her right hand, where an ugly white scar stood. If she ever got out of this place, she was going to start wearing gloves.

Suddenly a bout of dizziness overcame her, and once again Valerica was forced to catch Serana. This time, her mother eased her into the empty space in the monolith.

"It is time," Valerica said, looking troubled.

Through the sudden sleepiness she was feeling, Serana felt a flash of fear. Was it too late to back out of this plan? The Elder Scroll was digging painfully into her back, and all she really wanted was a cup of strong Argonian Bloodwine.

The world was falling away. Her mother's image was fading, but Serana did manage to catch the last words her mother said.

"Sleep well."

Darkness.

 **—|—**

In Serana's dream, she was a fox in the wilderness, fleeing from a large wolf. She was running as fast as she could, but sometimes she would stumble over rocks that were all shaped like claws. Overhead, the sun was burning bright, and she was desperate to escape its burning beams. But with every howl of the wolf behind her, the sun turned a deeper and deeper shade of red, like it was bleeding.

Suddenly, there was something in front of her. It was the size of a small lizard, but it had leathery wings folded into its side and steam was billowing from its nostrils. Its scales were black as night, but its wings were bright silver. Its eyes matched her own: amber, but not hungry, like she knew the wolf's were.

The miniature dragon stepped up beside her, and she knew that she could stop running. Together, they turned and faced the wolf.

The battle was long and fierce, and all of them were bleeding heavily, but in the end, the white wolf keeled over, dead. In triumph, she turned to the dragon, only to find that he was dead as well. He had bled out through a hole in his neck. And once again, she was alone.

 **—|—**

Rumbling.

Serana's world was shaking, creating a deep thrumming noise that reverberated in her bones. Before she was even fully awake, the wall she was leaning on fell away, throwing her onto the floor.

"Unh…" she groaned as she blinked against the bright light. What was happening? Her head was still fairly groggy. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a blurry pair of boots standing in front of her.

 _Mother must have come for me_ , Serana thought as her head began to clear. _How long has it been?_

Above her, somebody cursed. And the voice was distinctly male.

That couldn't be good.

Serana scrambled to her feet, her mind instantly cleared by alarm. The man standing in front of her was probably the strangest looking person she'd ever seen. His armor sort of looked like it was crafted out of bird feathers—it was black as night, and had the inscription of some kind of bird in the middle. It sort of looked like a nightingale, one of the birds that Serana had read about. His sword looked like it was made out of some sort of bone, but it also looked sharp enough to slice through solid steel. Serana also noticed that his right hand was soaked in blood, and there was a hole in his glove. He must have tried to use the blood seal, just like she had.

But perhaps strangest of all was his helm. It was made out of a dark metal—probably ebony—but it almost completely enclosed his head. It had no eye slits, so it was a mystery how the man could see at all. The only thing that showed that there was indeed a man inside was a small slit where his mouth should be. Serana briefly wondered if the man was a vampire like her, but his scent was all wrong. He smelled like a regular mortal—though his armor, by the smell of it, was coated in vampire blood.

"Where is—" Serana started, then decided against it. Best not to play all her cards just yet. Her voice was hoarse with sleep, and she coughed twice in an attempt to clear it up. "Who sent you here?"

The man said nothing for a moment, seemingly observing her. Serana decided that his helmet must have been enchanted for him to be able to see out of it. "A man named Isran." His voice sounded young. In his twenties?

Serana frowned. "I…don't know who that is." Unless Isran was someone connected to her mother, which she highly doubted. Still, it was worth an ask. She hesitated before asking, "Is he…like me?"

"What do you mean, 'like you?'" The man cocked his head in what Serana assumed was a confused gesture. It was almost impossible to tell with that helmet hiding his face.

Now she was even more unsure. Couldn't he see her glowing amber eyes? Her pale skin?

"A…can't you tell just from looking at me? A vampire."

But…wait. Could this man even see her at all, with that helmet he was wearing? He had to be able to see, right? Otherwise he never would have been able to find her, much less get out the door in the morning.

It was impossible to tell whether or not the man was surprised by her words. His next question seemed indifferent to her revelation, which she found surprising for a mortal. "Why were you locked away like this?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and wasn't sure if he could see it. He seemed to be able to see just fine, but she found his helmet…unnerving. No doubt that was the point, if he was truly a warrior.

"That's…complicated," Serana eventually responded. Truer words had never been spoken. She couldn't just lay it all out for some stranger, could she? "And I'm not totally sure I can trust you."

The man said nothing, waiting for her to continue. For some reason, there was this…air about him. He seemed like a good man. A good listener, too. Perhaps it was just because she couldn't see what kind of face he was making at her.

Serana took a moment to consider her options. On the one hand, if she tried to make it back home in her weakened state (she could feel her knees wobbling and her hands shaking), a lot of bad things could happen. She could get lost, she could be killed by a perceptive farmer in a small town…she had a whole list of things that could go wrong. Perhaps this stranger could be of use? If he was the mercenary type, whoever was home would surely reward him. But Serana sensed that this man was not a simple thug.

She decided to take a risk. It wasn't like she had much of a choice either way, right? "But," she said, hoping the man couldn't see her uncertainty, "if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family home." She tried very hard to keep the desperation out of her voice. She added, in as firm a voice as she could, "I'll be able to compensate you upon my safe return."

The man thought for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Where do you need to go?"

It couldn't be that easy, could it? It almost seemed too good to be true, but it was the only option really available to her.

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do." No matter how much time had passed, she doubted that either of her parents would give that place up without a fight.

The man nodded again. "Okay. I can get you there."

 _Manners,_ a voice whispered in Serana's head. It seemed that the countless hours learning etiquette in her father's court had paid off, even as she squinted suspiciously at the man who had so easily offered to help her.

"By the way," she said, "my name is Serana. Nice to meet you."

The man stuck out a hand for her to shake. "Nathan."

 _Well,_ Serana thought as she grasped his hand in kind, _I hope he really is a good man, otherwise I'm screwed._

 **—|—**

If Serana ever found her mother, she was going to _kill_ her.

Not only had there been gargoyles waiting for them—which attacked without a second thought—but there had also been draugr, which Serana found endlessly annoying. _And_ not only had there been skeletons that popped up out of _nowhere_ , and not only was the place endlessly confusing, but there had been a blasted _dragon priest_ presiding over the draugr. Granted, it was a weak, nameless one, but Serana still had to heal a nasty burn on her forearm from the thing. Oh, and to make matters worse, the air in the crypt was so stuffy that Serana nearly passed out at one point. At least Nathan was feeling it as well, otherwise she would have appeared weak. Which she was, temporarily, but she would have died of shame if she'd actually fainted.

She could tell that he had a lot of questions, or at least she guessed that he did, but he wisely chose to wait to ask them until they had exited the crypt. They had emerged on the side of the mountain in the middle of the night, where a blizzard seemed to be raging. Quickly, she flipped up her hood.

Serana took a deep breath, allowing her head to clear. "Ah," she sighed. "It's so good to breathe again. Even in this weather, it's better than that cave."

Nathan chuckled behind his helmet. The sound was pleasant. "That was actually better than most crypts I've been in, surprisingly."

Interesting. So he was an adventurer, then? Not many would willingly venture into crypts and barrows. Serana had been taught to stay away from them—not that it mattered. Before the whole incident with the prophecy, she had never been allowed off the island anyway. Something about her "safety," though she'd always doubted that was the real reason.

Nathan looked towards the moon in the sky, though how he was able to see it still bothered Serana. She didn't like not knowing things. "We have about five hours until daylight. That should be long enough to reach Dawnstar before the boats depart for the day."

Excellent. Serana could throw a blanket over herself and avoid the sun in the back of a boat. Maybe she could find a good book as well.

It took them maybe thirty minutes to reach the bottom of the hill they were standing on, and luckily Nathan stumbled over rocks and slipped on the ice just as much as she did, so there wasn't as much time for conversation. It was still an awkward silence, though, for Serana wasn't sure what to say to the man who had freed her. Maybe it was because of the blasted helmet that he wore. It was hard to imagine him as a person when he wore that thing.

And of course, as soon as that thought entered her mind, Nathan leaned against a tree covered in snow and removed his helmet, panting from the exertion of descending the hill.

Well…Serana certainly hadn't been expecting _that_.

Nathan appeared to be a…half-elf. Half-elves were so rare that if Serana hadn't read so many books, so wouldn't have known what he was. He appeared to be part wood elf and part human, which was a strange sight, to be sure. His features looked like they had been carved from stone—he had high, sharp cheekbones and a straight nose. But he had the narrow head of a Bosmer, and his eyes were shaped just slightly wider than a normal human's. His ears were slightly pointed, more so than a human's, but nowhere near as pronounced as a normal Bosmer's. He seemed to be in his early twenties; about her age before she had become a vampire. He had short, light brown hair that was a bit of a mess, as if he had just rolled out of bed, and his skin was well-tanned, like he had spent a lot of time working outside.

Oh, and he also appeared to be blind.

Serana had to restrain a gasp as she realized that his eyes were milky white, his pupils barely discernible from the rest of his eyes. Still, he seemed to be able to see just fine, hooking his helmet onto his belt and wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"What's the matter?" Nathan asked with a smile when he noticed her dropped jaw. "Never seen a blind person before?"

Serana realized she was staring and quickly looked away. "No. I mean, I have, but…" Sometimes, when a thrall was being too difficult, her father would order them blinded. They'd stumble around for a bit until someone decided to "put them out of their misery," as some of the members of her father's court had put it.

"You're wondering how I'm able to fight and move around so well." Nathan didn't seem to be offended. In fact, he almost seemed amused. "I get that a lot."

Serana opened her mouth once or twice, trying to find the right words to say as Nathan fixed her with his blind gaze. "Um…how _do_ you…er, do that?" Talos! She was hardly ever this clumsy with her speech.

Nathan leaned against the tree again. It was hard to read his facial expressions, partly because Serana was still a little drowsy from her long time asleep, and partly because his blind eyes made it hard to understand any emotion that flashed in them. But if Serana had to guess, she would say that he was thinking hard.

"It's hard to explain," he said eventually, looking back up at the sky. "The easiest way to say it is that I have to use magic constantly. It's like seeing a bunch of lines and shapes, but not really… _seeing_ , per se."

Serana felt her eyes widen. Using magic all the time was exhausting for the most seasoned of mages. How powerful must this half-elf be in order to use magic to see so well?

"Anyway," Nathan said, standing up straight. "We're burning moonlight. We can talk on the way."

She nodded. Then, wondering if he could see that, she opened her mouth to respond but then shut it.

This seemed to amuse him. "Well," he said jovially, stepping over a large snowdrift and onto the road, "Why don't you tell me why you have an Elder Scroll, while we're asking questions?"

Serana froze in the middle of stepping onto the road and then continued, cursing herself. Of course he knew she had an Elder Scroll! He may have been blind, but he could still see. Besides, even a truly blind man could feel the magic radiating from the magical artifact.

"It's complicated," Serana said simply. There wasn't really any other way to explain it without going into full detail, and she wasn't sure how comfortable she was with that yet. Nathan was nice, but she didn't really know him well at all. "I can't really talk about it. I'm sorry."

"What about why you were locked away like that?" Nathan asked. Serana could practically _feel_ his curiosity oozing off of him as he stepped over a snow drift.

That was also a long story. How to explain that without sounding…well, like a crazy person? "I'd rather not go into that with you, if that's all right." Perfect.

Nathan sighed and scratched his head, messing up his brown hair even more. It was an unusual hair style. Most of the men…and elves…that Serana had met wore their hair longer.

It didn't matter. Serana forced herself to focus as he spoke again.

"Is there anything you _can_ tell me?"

She thought about that for a moment. "Not really, no. I…I'm sorry. It's just that I don't know who I can trust yet."

Nathan frowned as he looked back at her. "Do you at least know how long you were in there for?"

Now it was her turn to frown. "Good question. Hard to say. I…I can't really tell." Everything in the wilderness looked the same. At least, from what Serana could remember as a child. "I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?"

"Queen," he corrected. "Jarl Elisif the Fair. There was a nasty bit with a civil war, but that's sorted out now." He waved his hand around flippantly, as if a civil war was something that happened every day.

"I don't know who that is," Serana said, almost to herself, her brow furrowing. "Is she well supported?"

Nathan snorted. "Sort of. The Empire supports her, at least."

Serana froze. " _Empire?_ What Empire?"

Nathan turned around to look at her, fixing her once again with those blind eyes. "The…Empire. From Cyrodiil." He said that with a tone that implied, _duh!_

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an Empire?" Serana demanded, panic beginning to set in. "I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned. Please, let's hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened."

He sighed again, and together they began to run for Dawnstar.

 **—|—**

The boatman gave them quite the confused look when Nathan asked for passage to her family home. "You want me to go there? Man, don't you know that place is haunted?"

Serana could sense Nathan's annoyance from behind his helmet (he had put it back on once they had neared Dawnstar, saying that he didn't like the looks people gave him without it). He leaned forward so that he was looming over the boatman.

"Listen," Nathan said, the tone of his voice darkening. "I need passage to the island off of Solitude. I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours. I'm _tired_. So, because I'm in a hurry, I will pay you double—no, _triple_ your usual fee."

Serana watched as the boatman's eyes lit up. "Well, in that case…"

Five minutes later, they were sailing the waves in a small sailboat. The boatman was manning the sail, well out of earshot. She'd managed to buy a book off of him for three gold pieces, a small novel called _Thief of Virtue._ But she was too anxious to read it.

Who would be waiting for her at the castle? She really hoped it was her mother, and not her father. If it _was_ Harkon…she'd just better pray it wasn't. Nothing good could come of that.

What she really needed to do was think about something else. But she was also worried that the sea spray would blot the ink of the book she wanted to read. So she'd have to settle for conversation.

She looked up as Nathan removed his helmet. It was hot in the boat, and his face was coated with sweat. She nearly laughed as the boatman started in surprise, almost mirroring the same reaction she'd had before. Unfortunately, the boatman seemed to have less tact that she did.

"You're a half-elf!" he exclaimed, mouth dropping open. A sudden burst of wind almost blew the sail out of his hands, but he regained control of it at the last moment. Serana winced as her stomach lurched along with the boat.

Rather than being offended, Nathan just nodded with a smile that she could tell was a tiny bit forced. "You're very perceptive."

Serana stifled a snort. The boatman, who seemed to be a Nord, seemed flabbergasted. "Isn't that…?"

"Impossible?" It looked like Nathan had rolled his eyes, but Serana couldn't be sure. "It's not." _Now_ he seemed annoyed. "What's your name?"

The boatman swallowed. "Helmann. People call me Guy."

Serana frowned. "Um…why?"

Guy seemed confused at her confusion. "Well…because 'Helmann' ends in 'man' and another word for 'man' is—"

"I get it," she said, wondering if all people were as strange as this nowadays.

Guy turned back to Nathan, but he seemed genuinely curious rather than seeking to cause offense. "Was it your ma or your pa that was the elf?"

Nathan's expression switched from humorous to guarded so quickly that Serana got whiplash.

"My father was the elf," he said, his voice quiet.

 _Interesting,_ she thought. She certainly had picked a unique companion.

She just hoped that she wasn't leading him to his death.

* * *

 **So I've gone and edited this chapter a lot more. For a while that's what I'll be doing, since I'm a senior who's about to graduate and that's all I'll have time for. But I promise, I haven't stopped thinking about this fic, and I encourage anyone who stumbles across it to give it a read (and perhaps a review?) Thanks to anyone who's read this. I really appreciate it.**


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan paused as he stepped out of the boat.

" _This_ is your home?" he demanded.

Sure, Nathan couldn't see like normal people. But he knew that he could see _more_ than normal people. In his mind's eye, he saw a massive castle, full of parapets and gargoyles. Reaching out with his magic, he could sense the age of the stones. Thousands of years old. He could see the old man, the one keeping watch across the bridge, snoozing off. Above them, he could feel bone hawks circling, searching for food to scavenge. He could even sense Guy's nervous sweat as he stared up at the castle.

The way that Nathan saw was less like _sight_ and more like…senses. Using magic, he expanded his senses of touch, smell, hearing, and even taste to see his way around the world. Vibrations were the most useful. Everything vibrated, which meant that Nathan could see the structure of buildings better than most architects ever could. The scent of the moss-covered stone gave the structure a surface, and the taste of salt in his mouth made the ocean painfully clear. Sound finished the picture by, oddly, adding color. In his mind, the castle that was Serana's home was a strange red color, like he'd been told blood looked like. He decided that it wasn't a good sign.

"This is it," Serana confirmed, drawing Nathan's attention back to the present. In his mind, she was a strange maze of orange and blue colors that he actually found pleasing to look at. He often judged people by their voice, and hers was mellifluous. "Home sweet…castle."

Nathan looked back up at the castle. Not with his eyes, of course. Physically, his eyes were as unfocused as they'd ever been. "Why didn't you tell me it was so… _huge?"_

He wasn't sure, but he thought he could sense Serana frowning. Facial expressions were hard to discern—the one thing his magic couldn't do for him was allow him to see other people's faces or other aspects of their appearance.

"I didn't want you to think I was one of those…you know, the women who just sit in their castle all day?" she replied. Her voice seemed sincerely insecure. Odd, considering that they'd just met a few hours ago. She shrugged. "I don't know. Coming from a place like this, well…it's not really me. I hope you can believe that."

Nathan nodded. "Fair enough." He had experience with people judging him based on limited information, after all. He clipped his helmet to his belt, for he was sick of wearing it, then turned to Guy. "You can head home now." He nodded to the small rowboat that Guy had parked his sailboat next to. "I can find my own way back." There was a small rowboat on the shore that felt like it hadn't seen any use in years, but he didn't want to make the poor Nord boatman any more afraid than he already was.

Guy was practically _streaming_ nervousness, and Nathan sensed him nod. "Sure, sure. But I get a tip for this, right?"

Nathan did his best to give a comforting smile. Facial expressions on his own face were even harder. "Yeah." He dug into his pack and tossed Guy a large coin purse without counting what was in it. All he knew was that it was significantly more than Guy would usually make.

He shouldered his pack and turned to Serana. "Lead the way, Castle."

She was definitely raising an eyebrow at him. He could practically _hear_ it. "Excuse me?"

Nathan shook his head. "Nothing. Nevermind. Let's go, shall we?" Pissing off a vampire? Not on his to do list, even if she was a nice one.

Thankfully, she let the matter drop, and started walking up the inclined bridge to the castle's gate. Nathan could sense the gargoyles they passed slumbering within their stony skin and resisted the urge to shiver. He _hated_ surprises, and thus hated gargoyles. He was tempted to put his helmet on for an added layer of protection, then decided against it. If there happened to be more vampires at this castle, he didn't want to appear as a menace to them.

"Hey, so…before we go in there," Serana started without warning, fiddling with her hands.

"Yeah?" Nathan replied. He elegantly stepped over a large chunk of rubble that a normal blind man would have wiped out on. "Are you all right?"

Serana hesitated, and Nathan wished that his magic would allow him to see faces. Was she upset? Sad? Angry? Gassy? He had no way of knowing.

"I…think so," she eventually said. "And thanks for asking." She looked up at the castle as they drew closer to it. "I wanted to thank you for getting me this far. But after we get in there, I'm going to go my own way for a while." He heard her swallow and add in an undertone, "I think." Then, louder, "I know your friends would probably want to kill everything in here. I'm hoping you can show some more control than that." He'd told her about the Dawnguard who'd sent him.

"They're not my friends," Nathan added softly. He sensed Serana staring at him and continued. "They saw that I was a blind half-elf and wanted to get rid of me, so they sent me on the most dangerous mission."

 _Unfortunately for them,_ he thought, _they had no idea that I was the Dragonborn. Icebrains._

Serana stopped walking, and Nathan paused as well, unsure what was wrong. Social cues were just as hard as facial ones. Had he overstepped his bounds?

"I'm sorry about that," she said. She sounded sincere. Nathan hoped she was. Then she coughed. "Once we're inside, just keep quiet for a bit. Let me take the lead."

"I can do that," Nathan agreed. _Twenty-one years of practice makes perfect._

Finally, they stepped into view of the dozing watchmen. As soon as he heard their footsteps, the old man snapped awake. His body was an ugly yellow color, like decay. "Lady Serana's back! Open the gate!" Nathan wasn't sure who the man was shouting to, since there were only three people outside.

The metal gates creaked open, and Nathan suddenly received a flash of anxiety. What was he supposed to expect inside?

The watchman bowed low to Serana, and even Nathan could sense her uncomfortability. He rushed to open the door for them, and Nathan caught a whiff of a bloody scent as they stepped inside. Then the large wooden doors shut behind them, and it was too late to turn back.

A high elf was waiting for them inside. Nathan had experience with identifying Altmer, even without the ability to see faces. They tended to have slightly longer ears than Bosmer and Dunmer, and they usually walked with a ramrod straight posture. Nathan's magic pointed out strange things about the waiting Altmer. The elf smelled strongly of blood and…nightshade? It was always hard to tell with flowers. Either way, he carried the scent of death with him.

He was also staring straight at Nathan.

 _Great_ , Nathan thought, waiting for the elf to understand that he was a half-elf. It usually took a second or two.

"How dare you trespass here, half-breed!" the elf exclaimed. His voice dripped with disdain.

 _There it is,_ Nathan dejectedly sub-vocalized. Whenever elves saw him, they usually dropped either the name "half-breed" or "bastard." Nathan _loved_ being a half-elf. At least the Altmer hadn't made some kind of blind joke.

Serana stepped forward, and Nathan thought he could feel anger radiating from her. He heard her intake of breath as she prepared to speak, but the elf beat her to the punch.

"Wait," he said. Nathan imagined the elf peering in disbelief at her. "Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes!"

 _Ah._ There's _the blind joke._ Nathan crossed his arms and resisted the urge to scowl. Elves were _so_ predictable.

The elf turned around and walked to the edge of the stairs beyond the small entrance hall. Nathan could sense lots of people below.

"My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!" the Altmer declared.

At the phrase, "my lord," Serana uttered a soft curse. When Nathan looked at her curiously, she said, "I guess I'm expected."

She walked forward, and Nathan had no choice but to follow, regretting every step that he took.

He nearly gagged when he stepped into the large hall that followed. It was filled with three long tables, all filled with vampires. The smell of blood was so thick in the room that he could taste it, which was not an enjoyable experience. His stomach churned as he realized that a majority of the scent came from two actual _people_ who had been laid out on the table as _food_.

He focused on the decorations instead. The room was lavish, built with pink granite and lit with elaborate candelabras. Banisters hung from the ceiling, but he couldn't tell what was on them. Just like with faces, he couldn't discern patterns in fabrics. He felt multiple eyes stick to him as he followed Serana, and suddenly felt severely uncomfortable. He was used to people staring at him, for many reasons. But not vampires. Especially not the head one, whose attention seemed to be firmly fixed on Nathan.

In his mind's eye, Nathan saw the head vampire as a mixture of black and red colors. He'd never seen a person with those colors before, and wasn't sure what to think. It worried him. The vampire, whom Nathan assumed was Serana's father, seemed to _radiate_ power, but not a clean sort of power, like the Elder Scroll on Serana's back. It felt strange, like an ocean of energy was beating against him, trying to force him back. He couldn't see what her father was wearing, but Nathan assumed it was something fancy, to match the decorations.

"My long lost daughter returns at last," the vampire said. Unlike his daughter, he had a harsh voice, like someone was blowing a flat note on a trombone.

 _Never judge a book by its cover._ That had been one of Nathan's mother's teachings. He stifled a sigh.

"I trust you have my Elder Scroll?" the vampire continued.

Nathan raised an eyebrow as Serana spoke. Her words matched the reason for his surprise. "After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the scroll." Her voice was tinged with sarcasm. He suspected she was rolling her eyes.

Nathan swallowed as he came to a stop a little bit behind Serana, who stood in front of her father. Stretching out with his magic, Nathan thought he could hear the name "Harkon" whispered. Even the _name_ of this vampire seemed to be a weapon.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter," Harkon said. "Must I really say the words aloud?" He caressed his face in thought. "Ah, if only your traitor mother were here. I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike."

 _Yikes,_ Nathan thought. _And I thought_ my _parents had a bad relationship._

"Now," Harkon said, returning his attention to Nathan. "Who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?"

Serana hesitated, then spoke again. "This is my savior, the one who freed me."

If Nathan thought the vampires were watching him closely before, they definitely were now. Great. Now Harkon was directly addressing him.

"For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude. Tell me, what is your name?"

Nathan straightened his posture and made sure that his voice showed none of the uncomfortability that he felt. "I am Nathan Scarlett. Who are you?"

" _I_ am Harkon," the vampire said. "Lord of this court." Harkon continued to stroke his chin in thought, and Nathan decided that the vampire had to have a beard. "By now, my daughter will have told you what we are."

 _You're a reclusive cannibal cult,_ Nathan almost said, but he bit his tongue. "You're vampires."

He imagined Harkon quirking an eyebrow, though Nathan didn't really know what that looked like. "Not _just_ vampires. We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim."

 _Lucky you,_ Nathan thought. _Now can you please let me out of here?_ Unfortunately, it seemed that he wouldn't be getting what he wanted any time soon.

Harkon began to pace. "For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

 _I really hope he's talking about his daughter._

"What happens now?" Nathan asked, trying very hard not to wince at the sound of a vampire sticking their face into the guts of one of the thralls on the table and chewing with relish. It was getting very hard to maintain his indifferent composure.

"You have done me a great service," Harkon replied, "and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll—and my daughter." The last part sounded like it was added as an afterthought. "I offer you my blood."

Nathan couldn't stop his jaw from dropping open. _What?_

"Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again." Harkon sounded immensely pleased by this. He also sounded like he had given this speech a hundred times before.

Nathan wasn't sure what to think. He'd never thought about becoming a vampire—the ones he saw wailing in caves were enough to persuade him away from it. But these vampires—despite the fact that they were feasting on people who were _still alive_ —seemed more civilized. He needed to understand all his options.

"And if I refuse your gift?" he asked, trying to keep a respectful tone.

"I will banish you from this castle," Harkon replied, his voice becoming disdainful. "I will spare your life this once, but after that, you are prey."

Nathan swallowed. "Prey" didn't sound fun. Then again, he wasn't exactly a fan of consuming people and their life source.

"Perhaps you still need convincing?" Harkon demanded, his voice rising in volume. " _Behold_ the power!"

Something was happening. The color black in Harkon's body was expanding, becoming darker than night. He hunched over as if in pain, and then the black burst forth from his body.

And then Harkon wasn't Harkon anymore. He was a… _thing_ with giant wings, like the descriptions of bats that Nathan had heard. Harkon's new figure looked entirely black in Nathan's mind, and it _radiated_ power, similar to what Nathan had felt from the vampire before, but a thousand times more powerful.

He took a step back. This wasn't just a vampire. This was a vampire _lord_.

Nathan prided himself on the fact that he didn't even flinch beyond stepping backward. A fleck of something that smelled like blood landed on his face, but he wiped it off with a hand that was only shaking just slightly. He could feel everyone in the room watching him.

" _This_ is the power that I offer!" Harkon roared. "Now: make your choice."

Nathan swallowed. He was being forced to choose? _Now?_

His eyes flicked around the room, though it served no purpose to do that. The way he saw was…

"Sight," Harkon suddenly said. "You wish to see, do you not?"

Nathan flinched, but just barely. How did Harkon know what he was thinking?

"My blood will give you sight as well, if that is what you desire." Harkon sounded smug, now that he finally had leverage over Nathan.

And it was, indeed, leverage. Nathan had been born blind. He'd never actually _seen_ with his own two eyes. The only sense of "sight" he knew was manufactured through magic, and it left out very important aspects. He wanted to know what trees looked like. He wanted to know what art looked like. He wanted to know how people looked, how people used facial expressions, what people dressed like.

He wanted to _see._

It had barely been five seconds since Harkon last spoke, and Nathan forced himself to wait a little longer to make sure that Harkon wouldn't get immediate gratification.

"Very well," Nathan said carefully. "I will accept your gift and become a vampire."

The atmosphere in the room changed from tense to…something else. He could feel Serana's eyes on him, though he stared resolutely at her father. The other vampires were muttering and hissing things to themselves, but the blood in his ears was pumping too hard for him to be able to make out what they were saying.

He was sure that Harkon was grinning. "Be still."

Harkon rushed forward suddenly, and it was with a great amount of self-control that Nathan did not move. The vampire lord bent his neck back harshly, wrapped his wings around Nathan's body, and buried his fangs in Nathan's neck.

Freezing cold ripped through Nathan's body, like a whirlwind of ice. It spread from his neck, followed by mind-numbing pain.

Before he blacked out, Nathan saw light.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

When Nathan woke, he felt like a block of ice.

Like when he woke every morning, he kept his eye closed and reached out with his magic. Like every morning, his surroundings were unfamiliar. But unlike every morning, he had woken up indoors.

He frowned, eyes still closed, as he mentally examined his surroundings. He was in a large, stone room, designed almost like a chapel, with sweeping arches and stained glass windows. There was a fountain at the front of the chapel, but it smelled like blood and had a strange shape on it that Nathan couldn't make out.

He jolted in alarm as he realized that someone else was in the room with him. Someone made of black and red.

He sat up suddenly, reaching for his sword.

Then he stopped.

Because when he sat up, his eyes were still closed. Normally, this wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't have been able to see any difference between when his eyes were closed and when they were open. But now, when he sat up, he thought he could see light.

But that couldn't be right. Nathan had to be imagining it.

But where was he?

Memories of what had happened came rushing back. Finding Serana. The castle. Harkon.

He gasped and opened his eyes―

―and stared at a wall.

But he was _seeing_ it. He wasn't looking at it with magic. He wasn't looking at it using his other senses. He was _using his eyes._

The wall itself wasn't particularly special. It was gray and hewn from rough stone. It was slick with moisture.

Nathan scrambled to his feet and looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing his Nightingale armor anymore, but he was hardly paying attention to that. He was wearing a black tunic, and he could _see_ the fibers in it. He lifted his hands and stared at them. He had tan skin. _He had tan skin!_

A massive smile split his face. He was _seeing_. With his _eyes._ It was everything he'd ever wanted.

"Awake at last," Harkon's voice rang from behind him.

Nathan spun and stumbled, not accustomed to the dizzy feeling that followed turning too fast. The front of the chapel did indeed have a fountain, one with blood in it. A strange face hung over it, crafted out of metal. It sort of looked like some sort of daedra, but it had horns curling in towards its face. And Nathan was _seeing_ it!

He was still grinning when he looked over at Harkon, getting his first look at a human face.

Faces were…weird. Harkon had long dark black hair and an organized goatee. His features were harsh, but looked like they might have once been handsome. He also had glowing orange eyes, and he wore red silk clothes along with a dark cloak.

Odd. Nathan had never seen anything with his own two eyes before, yet he still had a concept of what was ugly and what was not.

He raised his hands to his face and felt around like he had when he was blind. He'd had people describe what he looked like before, but seeing it would be another thing entirely.

"Ah, yes," Harkon said, sounding amused. "Your sight. I imagine you want to see yourself. I took the liberty of having a mirror brought in for you." He gestured to the right, and Nathan looked. A small, handheld mirror sat on one of the stone steps.

Nathan carefully walked over to the mirror, still grinning but not used to the new balance he would have to learn. Nervous for no apparent reason, he picked up the mirror and looked at his reflection for the first time…ever.

One hand touched his face in awe. He had sharp features, just like his mother had always told him. He had a straight nose, despite all the times it had been broken. His ears were slightly pointed, but he didn't mind at all. In fact, he thought it gave him a nice, unique look. His brown hair was messy, almost sticking straight up. Before, he knew his eyes had been milky white with blindness. Now, they were glowing with a deep amber color, his pupils a dark black.

All in all, he didn't look half-bad. Nathan had never seen himself before—his magic hadn't even allowed him that.

He surreptitiously wiped away the tears that had manifested in his eyes. He was _seeing._ He would repeat it a thousand times until it finally started to sink in.

"Good," Harkon said, and Nathan turned back to him. "I wasn't sure that you were going to wake up. The power is growing within you, and now you must learn to wield it."

At the word "power," Nathan's throat started to feel uncomfortably dry, and something inside his chest lurched. He physically started when he felt it. Out of curiosity, he closed his eyes and reached out with his magic. That same power he'd felt from Harkon resonated within the room, but there was another source. It was originating from Nathan himself.

It was then that he realized the rest of the deal that he'd made with Harkon. Nathan was a _vampire_ now. And not just _any_ vampire. One of the "most powerful vampires in Skyrim." Strange. Still, if it gave him the ability to see, Nathan would gladly accept this new reality. Sight was the only thing he had ever truly wanted.

Nathan winced as a headache bloomed in his skull. It worsened when he took in the dull light filtering in from outside. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"My blood is potent," Harkon replied. "At first, the body is overwhelmed by it." He crossed his arms. "After my bite, you collapsed and fell into a slumber. Now your flesh has acclimated to the new blood that courses through your veins."

Nathan frowned. What was "new blood" supposed to mean? And did Harkon have to talk like that _all_ the time? He understood the the vampire was no doubt old, but the emphasis on dramatics was very quickly losing its allure, which had already been very miniscule.

Harkon noticed Nathan's frown and tried to give him a reassuring smile. Despite the fact that Nathan had no experience with interpreting facial expressions, he still thought that the expression was creepy.

"I assure you, no harm was done," Harkon said. "In truth, your strength surprises me. Not all mortals can withstand my embrace."

 _No need to make it weird,_ Nathan thought, resisting the urge to grimace at Harkon's phrasing. He looked around the chapel in wonder, taking in his new ability of sight. Still, one thing confused him. "What… _is_ this place?"

Harkon answered readily enough. "A shrine to Molag Bal, the mighty daedra prince who is father to all our kind. Our power is a blessing from him. It is he who first bestowed the gift of the ancient blood upon me."

Nathan frowned. He'd had dealings with the daedra before, and those deals had hardly ever worked out well. "You made a pact with Molag Bal?"

"In an age long forgotten to history, I ruled as a mighty king. My domain was vast, my riches endless, and my power infinite."

 _That's what all kings think,_ Nathan thought. _But there's more, isn't there?_

"And yet," Harkon said, voice almost pensive, "as my mortal life neared an end, I faced a seemingly invincible enemy—my own mortality."

 _He doesn't look that old to me,_ Nathan thought. _Then again, what do I know about being an immortal vampire lord?_ He realized with a start that he would soon find out. Vampires didn't age, and neither would he.

"I pledged myself to Molag Bal, and in his name I sacrificed a thousand innocents." Harkon's voice was even, as if daring Nathan to find fault in his actions. "In reward, he gave everlasting life to myself, my wife, and my daughter. And so, I have defeated mortality itself."

Nathan felt that thing in his chest lurch again. Was that… _thing_ that Harkon had become also inside him? He was only growing more thirsty, and the sound of blood running in the fountain was doing little to help. He needed to find out what kind of predicament he had gotten himself into. "I'm ready to learn."

Harkon grinned, and Nathan just barely winced. "With my guidance, you will become a deadly instrument, striking terror into the hearts of mortals wherever you tread. Now listen to my words, and do as I instruct."

Harkon strode forward suddenly, coming to the edge of the small elevated platform he stood on, one foot on the steps leading down. "The true power of the ancient blood is in the form of the Vampire Lord. Reach inside yourself. Search for the power, and seize it! It is yours. Assume the mantle of the Vampire Lord, and we can continue."

Nathan frowned in thought. It was hard to believe that something like that could—

That thing in his chest lurched again, responding to Harkon's command. This time, Nathan grabbed onto it, claiming it for his own. Sight was his, now. This would be too.

Immediately, he felt the thing in his chest respond as his shoulders hunched over. He winced as the feeling inside of him grew and grew, until it _pushed_ itself out of him.

There was a small explosion of blood as the Vampire Lord burst forth from underneath Nathan's skin. Wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, and claws grew from his fingers. His spine elongated, making him taller, and his teeth grew fangs.

Nathan stood panting in his new body, feeling his muscles quiver in anticipation. He looked down at himself—noticing that his eyesight was significantly better in this form—to find that his skin had turned a gray-blue color, and his muscles had hardened, becoming as hard as ebony. Only a small loincloth protected his modesty, and he briefly wondered what had happened to his clothes. He stood up straight, and felt the wings on his back flex. This was going to be a strange experience. More out of instinct than anything, he flapped the wings on his back and rose off the ground. He expected to fall back down after a moment, but strange red light wrapped around his legs, keeping him suspended in midair.

"Woah," he said. His voice had turned deeper and slightly guttural.

"In this form," Harkon said, nodding once he saw that Nathan had transformed, "you can drain the life from your foes with your right hand. With your left hand, you can wield the power of blood magic to raise the dead."

Nathan opened his clawed hands. Indeed, his right hand was glowing with a red light. He could feel power pulsing from it. In his left hand, he held a ball of blue light. He knew that what Harkon was saying was true, and it seemed natural. Instinctual, actually.

"There's more," Harkon added. "You can also call upon the powers of night to turn into a swarm of bats and reappear some distance away."

 _Useful_ , Nathan thought.

"However, should you run out of magicka," Harkon continued, "you can descend to the ground and fight as the beasts do."

Out of curiosity, Nathan focused, and he dropped to the ground. He nearly fell over, not used to the added weight of wings on his back, but he managed to regain his balance. He flexed his hands while Harkon spoke.

"Good. You are weaker while on the ground, because you cannot access the blood magic. However, the night powers are still yours to command, and your claws are still formidable weapons."

Night powers. What was the difference between "night powers" and "blood magic?" Nathan had a lot to learn. He wondered if anyone had ever written a book on it.

"Over time, your powers will grow in strength, and you will find new ways to use your gifts," Harkon said. "There is much to learn, but if you master the powers of the Vampire Lord, few enemies will be able to stand against you."

There had been few enemies who could stand against Nathan in the first place, but this would no doubt be useful.

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but Harkon raised a hand to silence him. "There is one more thing you must know. Slaying mortal men with your life drain grants you new night powers and blood magic." His mouth lifted up, and Nathan assumed that he was smirking. "I keep a stable of thralls in the castle should you need to feed like the baser vampires to stave off the sun."

Unlike before, Nathan's stomach did not twist at the idea of feeding on another human being. Instead, the thirst he'd felt since waking seemed to intensify. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Nathan focused, and pulled the vampire lord back inside himself. The process was the reverse of what had happened before. His body shrank, and his claws and wings disappeared. In a few moments, he was back to normal height, and he felt a bizarre cold feeling as his skin grew back.

When it was over, he looked back down at his body, surprised that his clothes had rematerialized. Now that he knew how to transform, the power within him didn't seem as…urgent as before.

"Once you have acclimated to your new powers, I have a task for you that will test them," Harkon said. Nathan looked up at him to find that the vampire's face was perfectly impassive. Maybe Nathan was just imagining it, but Harkon's voice sounded…almost manipulative. What exactly was this task?

Nathan was curious, but he also knew that he had a lot of learning to do before he did anything. He had to get used to seeing, otherwise he could get killed in a serious fight. Not to mention that it would be nice to adjust to his new abilities.

"One final thing," Harkon said. That strange smirk had returned to his face. Nathan decided that he didn't like it. "You must be thirsty as well."

As he spoke, the doors to the chapel opened suddenly. A vampire in simple clothes led in a woman wearing threadbare rags by the arm. The vampire nodded respectfully at Harkon, let go of the woman, and left.

"I will leave you in peace to feed," Harkon said, that creepy smirk still on his face. He brushed past Nathan and the woman without a second look. "The first feeding process can be rather…messy."

And a moment later, he was gone.

Nathan and the woman stared at each other. She looked…impassive? Nathan couldn't interpret her facial expression, and chalked it up to him being inept in the area. But the longer he stared at her, the more his thirst grew.

 _Oh, boy,_ Nathan thought.

— **|||—**

When he finally emerged from the chapel, there was another vampire waiting for him. He was a Dunmer, if Nathan guessed correctly. Everyone told him that Dunmer had dark gray skin and red hair, like this one did. This vampire wore silver, silk clothes, yet he did not seem arrogant, like the Altmer that had greeted Nathan when he'd first entered the castle. His orange eyes roamed over Nathan's form once, and the Dunmer nodded.

"I am Garan Marethi," the vampire said with an aristocratic accent. He didn't hold out a hand for Nathan to shake, but that was probably something the vampires here didn't do. However, he did quirk an eyebrow as Nathan looked around the room he'd stepped into in wonder.

Nathan barely heard the vampire, choosing to gape at the room instead. It was crafted out of the same material as the chapel, but it was far more lavishly decorated. And this time, Nathan could see it all properly.

There were banners as red as blood hanging from the ceiling, with the image of a strange hydra's head emblazoned in silver on them. Nathan vaguely recognized the symbol as a clasp on Harkon's tunic. The symbol of Castle Volkihar, perhaps? Expensive looking carpets covered the stone floor, and Nathan's feet made a strange _swish_ ing sound whenever he moved. Torches hung on the walls, a safe distance from the tapestries, and small display cases lined the walls, filled with all manner of strange objects.

"Ahem," Garan coughed, sounding politely irritated.

"Right," Nathan said, snapping his jaw shut and returning his focus to the person in front of him. He would never tire of sight. He was dying to see what the outside world was like. Or, well…dying again. He wasn't really sure how the whole "vampirism" thing worked. "What is it you were saying?"

Garan sighed. "I have been instructed to take you to your things. They have been placed in your coffin for safe keeping. Please, follow me."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. _Coffin?_ Then he felt a flash of alarm. How long had he been out for? Had any of these people been into his things?

As Garan began to walk, Nathan tried to distract himself by looking at the display cases they passed. He saw an odd variety of potions and poisons, and what looked like spoils of war. He even saw a werewolf pelt! Just how old _were_ these vampires?

Nathan nearly tripped down the stairs that led to the coffins. Eyesight may have been amazing, but he would have to pay closer attention to his surroundings. Garan sighed again as Nathan stumbled after him.

"A word of advice," the older vampire said. "Don't look like an idiot in front of the other members of the court."

Nathan straightened, trying to look calm and collected. He'd gotten dust on his shirt already. "Urm…okay?"

Garan rolled his orange eyes. "I understand that this is your first time with…eyesight. Don't show your wonder in front of the others—they'll perceive it as weakness."

 _Ah,_ Nathan thought. _So this is one of_ those _kinds of families._ "Competition fuels greatness." One of his father's sayings.

Disgusted at that thought, Nathan followed Garan to a small room filled with coffins. The room was dimly illuminated, and seemed to resonate with an aura of peace and sleep. Despite the fact that Nathan had just been passed out for who knows how long, he yawned.

"This one is yours," Garan said, gesturing to one of the coffins lying on the ground. It was made out of dark teak wood, which was supposed to be very expensive. He leaned over and opened the lid to the coffin, revealing a small pillow and Nathan's pack inside.

He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw it. It didn't look like it had been tampered with. Good. Best to check just to be safe, however.

"Thank you," Nathan told Garan.

The Dunmer seemed taken aback by Nathan's manners. "You're welcome. Try not to mess it up too much. When you are ready, speak to me for Lord Harkon's assignment. I understand that it may take you a day or two to adjust."

Nathan nodded, and Garan left the room without another word to him. Glancing around to make sure that no one else was there, Nathan stepped into his coffin and sat down, placing his pack between his legs.

He began to rifle through it, going through his mental checklist. _Potions…check. Food…check. Septims…check. Lockpicks…check._

Panic cut through his brain for a moment. Where _was_ it?

He dug his arm into his pack in desperation. Finally, his shoulders untightened as his fingers closed around a narrow object. Sighing, Nathan drew out a small stalhrim dagger.

It was a little shorter than the length of his forearm, and would have appeared like solid ice to the untrained eye. It was part of the beauty of the weapon. The blade was a cobalt blue, and the steel grip felt solid in his hands. A pommel stone, also made out of stalhrim, finished the picture.

He'd never actually seen it with his own two eyes before. It was even more beautiful this way. For the second time that day, Nathan wiped tears from his eyes.

With a bit more digging around, Nathan managed to find his sheath for the dagger and strapped the weapon to his ankle for safekeeping. He had been foolish to leave it in his pack, but he'd been in a hurry before.

Now, it seemed, he had all the time in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

Serana stopped in her tracks as annoyance burst forth in her. Someone was sitting in her reading spot.

She had an armful of books in one hand and a piece of parchment to serve as a bookmark in the other, but despite the muscles in her arm complaining at the weight placed on them, she stared. Now was _really_ not a good time for another one of the court vampires' antics.

Sometimes it would happen when a new vampire wanted to try and prove themselves. Other times it would occur when an older one wanted to try and advance their position. No matter who did it, someone ended up messing with her every so often. But right now she was _not_ in the mood.

It had been a day since her return to the castle, and she had been in a whirlwind of indecision. Her mother was nowhere to be found. The courtyard was closed off. She had no one to talk to. What was she supposed to do?

Eventually, she had decided that she needed to take a moment and breathe, to relax. As she always did whenever she needed to take a breather, she grabbed as many books as she could find and headed for her customary reading spot, the small alcove overlooking the dining hall. The reading light there was perfect, and far enough removed that it wouldn't be easily noticeable to the average brown-nosing vampire.

Granted, it had been a _really_ long time since she'd sat there, so they might have forgotten, but immortal vampires had surprisingly long memories. Since there hadn't been any new additions—yesterday excepted—whoever it was should have known better. She was not in a mood to be trifled with. Normally she could have been civilized, but she just didn't have the state of mind for it in that moment.

"Excuse me," she said, not caring if her tone was rude. If this was Vingalmo again…

The perpetrator jumped in surprise, and the book he was reading flopped closed as it hit the floor. He looked up at Serana, shock written all over his face, and she found the change in his eye color startling. Before, they'd been white with blindness. Now, they were as glowing and amber as her own. And they were _seeing_ her.

As soon as Nathan looked up at Serana, he knew he was in big trouble. Before, he'd seen her as a mash of orange and blue lines and shapes, and he'd had to rely on her voice. Now he saw her face.

Serana seemed to be around his age—early twenties (or at least, she'd been around his age when she'd been made a vampire. By the Divines, this was confusing!). But Serana had dark black hair that framed her face quite nicely, and she also had high, sharp cheekbones, undoubtedly the kind that Nathan had heard the women in Riverwood wishing they had.

She was also quite possibly the most beautiful woman in Nirn.

Granted, Nathan had only met a few other women since gaining the ability to see. Not many vampires in Harkon's court were women, from what he could see, but there were a few. All of them were pretty (again, Nathan was surprised that he somehow had a standard of beauty), but none of them quite matched Serana.

Maybe he was exaggerating. Nonetheless, his hands started to sweat and he felt the tips of his pointed ears reddening. "Um," was the only thing that came out of his mouth when he saw her. He could already tell that this conversation was going to be extremely awkward on his end.

Meanwhile, Serana's arm was growing very tired. Was it a good idea to grab so many books? Probably not. She was starting to regret it. And the way that Nathan was staring at her was doing little to help.

"I…sorry," she said after a moment, realizing how cross she'd just sounded. Nathan had done nothing to deserve that. He'd been the kindest person to her in centuries, as it turned out. "I thought you were someone else."

"Uh," Nathan repeated, still staring at her with his new amber eyes. He coughed, and then he seemed to be back to his normal self. "No, it's fine. Is this your seat, or something?"

Serana started to shake her head, but then the muscle in her arm twinged, and she nodded. "Yes, but you don't have to—"

He was already standing up, and Serana noticed that he was not wearing the…traditional clothes of a Volkihar vampire. Rather than wearing expensive, silk clothes, Nathan wore a simple black cotton tunic and brown trousers, along with black leather boots. The clothes seemed to suit him. Not that Serana noticed.

"Uh, hold on," Nathan said, picking his book up off the floor and placing it on the small table next to the chair. He nodded at her and then rushed off, leaving her alone with her armful of books. Frowning in thought, she finally placed her stack of books next to the chair. She wondered what the hell Nathan was doing, then wondered why she cared. Out of curiosity, she picked up his book, only to find that it wasn't printed in normal ink. Instead, the pages were covered in strange bumps that she could feel as she ran her hand over the parchment. Strange. How was he reading this?

She heard footsteps behind her and hastily put the book back on the table. A moment later, Nathan appeared, carrying a heavy wooden chair as if it were nothing. One of the benefits of being a vampire was increased strength. He placed the other chair on the opposite side of the table, and there was just enough space in the alcove for both seats.

"There!" he exclaimed, his face red, presumably from exertion. "Problem solved!" He plopped down in the chair he'd just brought over and reached for his book on the table. He frowned when he saw that the book had moved from its original position, but other than that said nothing.

Serana sat down in the other chair, unsure what to say. She wasn't used to people here fixing a problem like that so easily. Usually, there was a lot of posturing, and Serana would have to use her position to get what she wanted—which she hated to do. But this half-elf showed a willingness to share, which seemed highly unusual; that is, until she remembered that he had only been turned yesterday. It was even stranger when she considered that fact that most people, once given Harkon's blood, became hungry for power immediately afterwards. Yet Nathan seemed just as chipper as before, if not more so. He did have his eyesight, now.

"What are you reading?" Nathan asked her, cracking open his own book but not looking at it.

"Everything," Serana replied. Then, when he raised a confused eyebrow, she said, "I just grabbed as many books as I could. Mainly history, to try and find out what I missed."

"They don't have anything recent," Nathan replied, still looking at her but running a finger over one of the pages of his strange book. "I already asked."

That was…surprising. For one, not many of the other vampires were interested in reading, so why was this one, even if he was fresh? For another, hadn't he been _blind_ before? How would he know how to read?

He must have seen her confused look. He lifted the pages of his book for her, with all the strange bumps in the paper. "It's called 'Braille.' It allows me to read by just running my finger over the bumps. Each pattern is a different letter, see?" He gestured to a single dot. "This is A."

 _Fascinating_ , Serana thought. There hadn't been anything like that before.

"What are _you_ reading?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I asked around for books on the history of vampirism. I'm trying to learn." He snapped his fingers, and the book in his hands suddenly read just like any other book—with ink. He flipped it over and showed her the cover, which read _Immortal Blood_ in golden stitching.

"That book is actually fairly inaccurate," Serana said, cocking her head at him as he turned it back to Braille. "It says that the Volkihar Clan is placed in Eastern Skyrim, but as you can see we are far from east. Also, our breath doesn't freeze anyone's blood. And obviously, we don't live beneath a lake."

Nathan nodded at that. "I gathered that much. But what about the Bonsamu?" He pointed to a portion of the book, realized that she couldn't read it, and turned it back to normal.

Serana leaned in to read it. The passage in question read, " _There were many tribes to cover, such as the Bonsamu, who were indistinguishable from Bosmer except when seen by candlelight."_ She frowned.

"I've never seen one of those," she said slowly, "and I've never heard of it either. Sounds like a myth to me."

"Hmm." Nathan seemed genuinely interested in learning about the vampires. Serana thought that was odd—then again, she was realizing that a lot of things about Nathan were odd, and that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Here," Serana said, digging into her own pile and grabbing a book from the bottom. Its cover read _Manifesto Cyrodiil Vampyrum_. She handed it to him, and he flipped through the pages curiously, once he translated it to Braille. "We Volkihar vampires are distantly related to the Cyrodiil vampires. This might help shed some light on things."

"Thank you," Nathan said, closing the book and looking up at her with a smile on his face. "I—"

"You!" a voice that Serana recognized as Vingalmo's suddenly exclaimed. "Half-breed!"

Nathan was on his feet in an instant, hand reaching for his ankle for a single moment before he stopped and turned to face the Altmer, fists clenched.

"Yes?" he asked, in a pleasant voice that Serana was absolutely positive was sardonic.

Serana stood as well, turning to face Vingalmo. His red eyes twitched as he sensed Nathan's underlying sarcasm.

"Why are you not carrying out Lord Harkon's task?" he demanded. "Surely you did not think you would be allowed to…mooch?"

Nathan's amber eyes flashed dangerously. Serana was surprised, as before his emotions had been hard to read. Now they were as clear as day. Or, well…night. It was obvious why he hadn't immediately performed whatever "task" that her father had asked of him. His body needed time to adjust to the new blood in his veins, and who knew how long it would take for him to get used to his sight. It would be suicide to send him out into the world now.

Yet Nathan's answer was different. "I was performing research for this task."

Vingalmo clearly hadn't expected Nathan to have a logical response. "I…" Then he seemed to recover his wits. "Perhaps you were afraid to perform the task? _Afraid_ to perform your duty to the lord of this court?"

There was that dangerous glint in Nathan's eyes again. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, yet his face was as impassive as ever.

"Of course not," he said, voice frighteningly even.

"Then prove it, half-breed."

Serana wanted to say something to tell them both how _foolish_ they were being, but something kept her silent. Maybe it was the confident bearing that Nathan held, or maybe it was the way that he was staring Vingalmo down. Either way, Serana realized that this half-elf may have been odd, but he was no fool.

"Very well," Nathan eventually said, though he finally sounded agitated. "If you want to see me prove it, I'll go right now."

"Excellent," Vingalmo retorted. "Garan Marethi is waiting for you downstairs."

As Serana watched Nathan gather his things and walk away, she wondered—not for the first time—if he was walking to his doom.


	5. Chapter 5

**FWI, I realize that the whole "Braille" thing was out of place in this universe, but like threeblueribbons, I have a history-crush on Louis Braille, plus for the purposes of this story it was needed.**

* * *

The moment Nathan stepped outside, he felt his breath leave his body.

It wasn't that the area around Castle Volkihar was particularly _beautiful_. In fact, it seemed ugly—all cracked stone, gray dirt, and patchy plants with no leaves. But the ocean…the ocean was magnificent.

He had exited the castle right as the sun was setting, so he had a clear view of the sun descending over the ocean from his point of view. The sky was awash with a plethora of oranges, yellows, and reds, and the sea-green ocean reflected them all. In the distance, a whale surfaced, sending water flying into the sky.

He grinned as he saw it, but then winced as the fading sunlight touched his skin. It burned like hell, and he hissed in displeasure.

 _Right,_ Nathan reminded himself. _Vampire. Sun bad._

Quickly, he flipped up his black hood, shading his face. After a moment, he attached his Nightingale mask as well, more to hide his glowing eyes than anything. He'd had enough time to don his armor and grab his supplies before he'd left, but he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into him.

He shouldn't have let Vingalmo get under his skin. But once he heard the phrases "bastard" and "afraid," it was like his childhood had come back to haunt him again.

He firmly forced his thoughts away from those memories. It wouldn't do anyone any good to get distracted. As he walked to the boat docked at the opposite end of the island, he reviewed what Garan had told him.

"The Bloodstone Chalice has been in Lord Harkon's possession for some time now," he had said, "It is, when used properly, able to increase the potency of our powers. He has neglected used it for ages. If he wants it filled now, then grander things are afoot. This is good." The Dunmer had led him to the chalice in question—walking right past a smug Vingalmo and a flabbergasted Orthjolf. The Bloodstone Chalice was a medium-sized silver cup with small gems that looked suspiciously like diamonds embedded in the sides.

"This chalice needs to be filled directly from the bloodspring that is the source of Redwater Den," Garan had continued. "But that's not enough. Once that's done, the blood of a powerful vampire needs to be added to it. Keep in mind that Redwater Den has fallen into…well, let's just say less reputable members of society now dwell there."

Nathan sighed as he reached the rowboat. In his pack, the Bloodstone Chalice bounced around.

It was going to be a long day.

— **|||||—**

Redwater Den…was a shack in the middle of the wilderness.

It looked like it had burned down at one point, but someone had attempted to rebuild it. It was useless; the place was a ramshackle hut. The only thing showing that it was indeed the place that Nathan was looking for was the vampiric guard standing watch.

It was strange. Before, he'd relied on his senses to see. Now that he _could_ see, his senses seemed to be enhanced even further. He could _clearly_ smell something strange about the woman in furs, sitting on a box. She smelled like blood, and vampire dust. Either she was an alchemist or a vampire, and she looked dumber than a box of rocks.

However, her eyes didn't seem to be glowing. Odd. Perhaps she was employing some sort of illusion spell? If so, it might be useful for Nathan to learn it.

Luckily, she seemed to assume that Nathan was there for whatever business was being run in the den. She looked him over—showing no concern at his peculiar armor—and said, "Hey there, friend. If you're looking for a fix, you're at just the right place. Just head on down the trapdoor." She sent him a smile, and behind his mask, Nathan winced. Most facial expressions were not as pleasant as he had imagined.

He nodded at her and walked past, hoping that she wouldn't be able to notice his vampirism like he had noticed hers. After a moment of nothing happening, he opened the trapdoor and carefully descended down into Redwater Den.

The beginning of the den seemed to have been crafted just like any other basement. It had a wooden ceiling and plenty of beams to support the ceiling. It also smelled like blood.

However, this scent was distinctly different from the smell of blood that filled Castle Volkihar. It smelled…sweeter, somehow? Almost as if someone had poured a vat of honey into the source. It was almost sickening, and Nathan started to breathe through his mouth instead. He continued down into the basement, until he found a small, locked door waiting for him.

There was another lookout waiting for him—also a vampire. He wore fur armor and had a sharp-looking sword attached to his waist. He watched Nathan with a wary expression, his eyes also not glowing. _Strange_.

"Hold it," the guard told him. Out of instinct, Nathan tightened his grip on the hilt of the dragonbone sword on his hip. "If you're going downstairs, keep your weapons to yourself, or we'll be getting better acquainted." The guard continued to glare at Nathan until he relaxed and took his hand off his sword. Finally, the other vampire relaxed. "Head on in, and behave yourself."

The guard turned to the door, inserted a key, and unlocked it with a sarcastic flourish.

Nathan hesitated. The man's back was turned to him. Some of the other vampires would have killed him instantly, he knew. Some of them did little to hide their aggression.

But…that didn't seem right. Nathan may have been a vampire now, but he still had his morals. And besides—he liked the challenge. Sneaking through a hive of vampires with the enhanced sense of smell (though they somehow managed not to notice his vampirism) would be quite the challenge indeed.

As Nathan walked past the doorman, making sure that his mask and hood still firmly covered his face, the thing in his chest lurched, wanting out. He quelled it with a thought. If he transformed now, while he was walking into the den, the vampires would freak out—they might even block off the spring that he needed to get to. No, it was better to take the subtle route on this one.

The room that had had stepped into _reeked_ of the smell of skooma. Nathan nearly gagged when he entered, then realized that the people here probably assumed that he was some bizarre addict. The room was covered in cheap rugs and had several booths, where multiple people were passed out. Toward the ceiling, there was a red sort of smoke hanging around, stinking strongly of both skooma and the strange blood smell that Nathan had caught before. There was a counter immediately to the left, protected by a cage. A Bosmer stood inside, dressed in a simple bartender's clothes.

"Welcome!" she exclaimed once she saw Nathan standing there. "I don't believe we've seen you before, have we? You can buy from me, then join any booth you like."

 _Right,_ Nathan thought. _I'm supposed to be an addict. Play the part, man!_ If he could get to one of the back booths, he might be able to slip away to wherever they kept the spring.

"How about a sample?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound scratchy, like an addict he'd once given money to on the streets of Solitude.

The dealer's eyes narrowed at him for a moment—no doubt taking in his strange Nightingale armor—before she eventually nodded. "Since it's your first time…sure. Find a booth and enjoy."

She reached below the counter and produced a small skooma bottle, one with strange, bright red liquid sloshing around in it. She slid it through the bars guarding her counter, and Nathan grabbed it with a grateful nod. Still feeling the dealer's eyes on him, he walked to the booth in the very back, where an Imperial soldier sat passed out. Nathan sat on a pile of rugs, skooma bottle in one hand, observing his surroundings. He hid the bottle with one hand to make it look like he had drank it, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Then he reached out with his magic.

He winced as he received a headache. In places where magic was high, there was a sort of…interference with his magical sight. In his mind, he saw a mishmash of lines and shapes that made no sense whatsoever. He suspected it had something to do with the vapor that he'd seen hanging around the ceiling. If it was from the bloodspring, it was likely that the magical properties interfered with his own magicka source.

He sighed. Great.

As he opened his eyes, he noticed one of the attendants staring at him. The Dunmer quickly looked away.

Even better. More suspicion.

Nathan glanced at the bottle in his hand, and his throat began to feel terribly thirsty again. Maybe if he took just a sip of the bottle, the attendant would leave him alone; it shouldn't impair his sense too much.

Slowly, deliberately, so that everyone could hear him, he popped the cork off of the skooma bottle. Immediately, the sickly sweet scent in the rafters reached his nose, a thousand times more potent. He was going to regret this.

Before he could think twice about his decision, he raised the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

Almost immediately, the world started to spin, and he got a strange, hazy feeling in his head. His stomach bubbled, and he felt sick. Before he had a chance to right himself, he was falling over. Darkness took him.

— **|||||—**

It took him a long time to get his wits back. He knew he was lying on a cold, concrete floor, and he knew that someone had taken his sword and his pack, but he was unable to care about it for an extremely long time. It felt like he was just…floating there, leaving his cares somewhere far away.

Then he heard a voice. Instinctively, he kept his eyes closed, and listened.

"The water from the spring makes the skooma _so_ much more potent," a pompous-sounding voice said.

"Even though this one is a vampire, the skooma knocked him right out. Serves him right, trying to encroach on our territory. Good thing the boss heard that old farmer running his mouth in the tavern about finding this place."

"I don't know, Marko," a female voice replied. "I think this one might be more trouble than he's worth."

"Oh, shut up and go sell more skooma," Marko replied.

The woman huffed, and Nathan heard footsteps heading away.

He tried to reach out with his magic, but he quickly found an interference that sparked his memory. He'd been in Redwater Den, and he'd drunk just a little bit of skooma to avoid suspicion. What had happened?

He must have passed out. If the water from the bloodspring _did_ make skooma more "potent," then it would make sense that someone who has never had skooma, like Nathan, would pass out.

He opened his eyes and had a brief moment of panic when he realized that he couldn't see. Then he realized that it was just darkness, and not a result of blindness; he was in a dimly lit jail cell, lying next to a corpse. A vampire (Marko?) stood on the other side of the bars, holding a dying torch. His back was turned to Nathan, but the vampire was rooting through Nathan's pack with one hand.

The sight of that sparked enough anger in Nathan to get him to focus. He was here for the means to fill the Bloodstone Chalice. Wherever he was, he had to escape, and he had to accomplish this task. If not for Harkon, and if not to prove that he wasn't afraid, then for himself.

Marko's back was to Nathan, but he was still standing awfully close to the door of the jail cell. Slowly so as not to alert the vampire, Nathan reached for the dagger still strapped to his ankle. Like most stalhrim weapons, the dagger was cold to the touch, and he could feel it waiting for him against his skin.

His hand closed around the grip, and he began to slowly slide the weapon out of its sheath. It made a small _shink_ sound, but Marko didn't seem to notice.

It took even longer for Nathan to get into a crouch without alerting the guard, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The dagger's grip was slick in his hands.

The vampire suddenly stopped looking through Nathan's things. Had he heard something?

No. He was pulling something out of Nathan's pack—a book titled _Manifesto Cyrodiil Vampyrum_.

Nathan lunged forward suddenly, grabbed the vampire's head, and slashed the dagger across Marko's throat. He died instantly.

Nathan cursed as the man's body fell forward, just out of his reach. The key on Marko's belt was clearly visible, glinting in the light from the man's dropped torch.

He cleaned his dagger carefully and put it back in his ankle sheath. Then he shoved his arm through the bars, extending his hand and fingers as far as they would go. He could barely reach the man's boot.

Nathan cursed again, then turned his eyes to the corpse in the cell. It was a Bosmer woman in mages' clothing. Eying the rope she had used for a belt before her death, he wondered if he could use it somehow to get the body of Marko closer. Groaning in disgust, he flipped her heavy body over—only to discover a book pressed to her chest.

Nathan hurriedly grabbed the book from her dead fingers, recognizing the faint magical aura that radiated from it. He didn't recognize which magical house it belonged to (he had been blind, after all, and unable to see the different symbols for each house), but if he had to guess, he would say it was Alteration. Quickly, he converted the book to Braille so that he could read it. A spell tome that had been hidden by a prisoner had to be all sorts of useful.

He began running his finger over the pages, while simultaneously keeping an eye out. At any moment, another vampire could appear and sound the alarm. His eyes widened as he read. This spell was _perfect._

Unfortunately, reading a spell tome destroyed it in the process. Nathan bit his lip to keep from crying out as the pages began to heat up under his finger. As he reached the last line, the book promptly collapsed into dust. Marvelous.

Nathan called to mind the spell he had just learned in his right hand. Immediately, a glowing orange light appeared, centered around a small, floating orange cube in his hand. The telekinesis spell.

He reached his arm out through the bars again and stretched out with his magic. Immediately, the key on Marko's belt flew toward him—but it went right past his hand and smacked him in the face, right between the eyes.

"That's gonna need some practice," he muttered unhappily, rubbing the small bruise that had already started to form.

He took the key and unlocked the door to his cage, saluting the body of the dead elven mage.

Now it was time to ruin another vampire's day.

— **|||||—**

For a pack of bloodthirsty vampires, they sure were stupid.

Nathan encountered dozens of vampires and their thralls, and each one had been carefully taken out by his dagger or a silent spell. He'd also encountered dozens of unlocked doors and chests. Did these people have no sense of privacy or paranoia?

He made it to the very exterior of the spring before he encountered a locked door, and it took searching several bodies to find the key. He kicked Venarus Vulpin's body for good measure, rubbing the cut the older vampire had inflicted on his arm.

It took some used to, fighting with eyesight. Nathan was covered in a dozen minor wounds and bruises that he didn't remember getting, but he was still alive. He hadn't even had to transform to his other form to get through the dungeon.

Nathan took the key and inserted it in the door. The smell of the bloodspring was so strong now that he could feel his throat _throbbing_ in thirst. He wished he would have snagged a blood potion on the way out of the castle—not only was he so _thirsty_ , but he was _hungry_ as well. It was maddening, but he knew that if he drank from the bloodspring, he'd form a sort of addiction to the waters. He steeled himself and pushed open the door.

The bloodspring was truly a sight to behold. A massive pond sat in a large cave, with two stone bridges leading to a natural fountain of blood-red water. Stone pillars that looked like they had been carved out of the cave itself held up the cavern's ceiling, and massive torch braziers hung from them.

Nathan bit his tongue when he smelled the water. It was stronger here than it had been anywhere else, and he felt the thing in his chest beg for release. He silenced it for the time being. Carefully, watching his every step, he walked onto the bridge. Multiple bones and discarded ribcages floated in the water. He took his pack off of his back and rummaged through it for a moment, drawing out the Bloodstone Chalice. It was a good thing that he'd sewn in a hidden pocket for his knapsack, otherwise Marko might have found it while Nathan was imprisoned. Gripping the cup tightly, he dipped it into the fountain.

Immediately, some sort of magical affect took place. The chalice began to glow with a silver light, and the water in the cup seemed to…settle there. Out of curiosity, Nathan flipped the chalice upside down. None of the liquid inside spilled out.

 _Fascinating,_ he thought. Now all that was left was to add the blood of a "powerful vampire." Nathan wondered if he could get a donor from one of the vampires at Castle Volkihar.

He was right in the middle of putting the chalice back in his pack when he heard it. Footsteps.

He'd drawn his sword and dagger in an instant, holding the dragonbone sword parallel to the floor and the stalhrim dagger in front of him as a guard. The Bloodstone Chalice sat in his pack behind him.

It was not a moment too soon. Two people emerged from behind the large stone pillars, their weapons drawn. They were dressed in dark leather armor that Nathan recognized as what most vampires wore.

Even more surprising was that fact that Nathan knew these two people. The first was Stalf, a Nord vampire that Orthjolf had grudgingly introduced Nathan to. Stalf carried a large steel broadsword, and carried it like he knew how to use it. Beside him stood Salonia Caelia, one of Vingalmo's Imperial lackies. Likewise, she had her glass mace drawn and at the ready.

Nathan's first thought was, _it's strange that they're here together._ Then he realized that they had probably followed him to kill him.

Sure enough, Salonia's next words confirmed it. "It's really too bad, you know. The little accident you had here—completely unexpected."

Stalf smirked. "Yeah, too bad. Lord Harkon's new favorite, dead so soon after joining the family."

Salonia raised her mace higher. "We're just lucky I was here to return the chalice to Vingalmo, so he could make sure Harkon gets it back."

 _Called it,_ Nathan thought. He kept his weapons raised, though his mind was frantically working on a strategy. If they both attacked at once, he was too close to them—he'd be overwhelmed.

Luckily, fate seemed to be on his side.

Stalf's brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, what? That's not what we agreed. We take it back together."

Salonia rolled her glowing red eyes. "Idiot." She turned to face him, though her mace was still pointed at Nathan. "You didn't really think I'd let you walk out of here either, did you? Vingalmo wants you both dead."

It was Nathan's turn to smirk. He saw a way out of this.

"Well, that's just fine," Stalf replied, his rough voice taking on a hard edge. "Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone who got in the way."

"You should take some time to work this out," Nathan commented. Both of their heads snapped to him, as if realizing for the first time that he was there. "I hear couple's therapy works wonders."

Salonia cursed at him, and Stalf yelled, "Don't just stand there! Kill him!"

As one, they took a step—at the same time that Nathan opened his mouth to shout.

" _VEN GAAR NOS!_ "

A cyclone burst forth from his mouth, rushing for Stalf and Salonia. They both had half a second to look surprised before it was upon them, violently throwing their bodies across the room. Stalf landed face-down in the blood spring, but Salonia hit a wall. Unfortunately, both were still alive.

The thing in Nathan's chest lurched again, and this time he did not refuse it. He grabbed the power, and the Vampire Lord burst forth.

Salonia was on her feet, and when she saw Nathan's new form, her eyes widened. She reached for her mace, but it was too far out of reach. And it was too late.

Nathan rushed forward, his new, taller body giving him supernatural speed. He was on his feet, but it didn't matter. As Salonia reached for her weapon, he lashed out with his claws, cutting deep into her chest and sending her corpse flying across the room, where it did not get up again.

A rock hit Nathan between the shoulder blades. He didn't even stagger, but he did turn to face the perpetrator. Stalf stood in front of the blood fountain, dripping wet. His sword was in both hands.

"Come on!" he shouted. "Face me!"

"Oh, I will," Nathan replied in his newly deepened voice. He focused, and his wings flapped, lifting him off the ground as he turned to his new adversary. In his hands, spells glowed.

Stalf had just enough time to swear before Nathan's Drain Life spell—strengthened a thousand times over by blood magic—slammed into his body, sending him crashing into the waters of the bloodspring, where he lay still.

Nathan transformed back to normal and straightened his hood. "That was easy." He scooped up his discarded weapons and his pack. He now had a source of powerful vampire blood for the chalice as well. Perfect.

Maybe he _could_ get used to this whole "vampire" thing.


	6. Chapter 6

Serana was walking past the dining hall when she heard it. The main hall door had just opened and closed. And the scent of vampire blood wafted toward her nose—three distinct different kinds.

She frowned. _Nathan must be back. What's with all the blood?_

She looked down at the book in her hand— _The Wolf Queen, v. 6_ —and sighed. One day, her curiosity was going to be the death of her.

She put the book on the nearest bookshelf and circled back around, trying to avoid the crowded dining hall. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice the smell of vampire blood in the room, because they were so busy feasting. There were multiple vampires who believed that the "feast never ends" in Castle Volkihar. Serana tried to avoid those people.

She passed through the small alchemy lab and covertly made her way up the stairs that led to the entrance hall. Had it only been two days since she'd arrived home? With all the worries running through her head, it felt like longer.

Sure enough, Nathan was standing in front of the door, removing a black hood and mask from his face. He was bleeding from multiple small cuts—including a rather nasty looking one on his forearm. However, it looked like most of the blood covering his black armor didn't belong to him. He also looked pretty tired, and it looked like he hadn't slept at all.

"Oh," he said when he saw her, letting his hood hang off the back of his neck and the mask in front of it. His hair looked like even more of a disaster than usual. "Hey."

Serana frowned at him. "What happened to you?"

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, clearly attempting a casual stance, though it was also clear that it pained him. "Oh, you know. Broke into a vampire lair. Got knocked out. Slayed some other vampires. Was attacked by Stalf and Salonia. No biggie."

His tone was humorous, but he appeared to be hiding the amount of pain he was in—poorly. She felt a flash of concern, which confused her. She barely knew this newly-made vampire, yet she was worried about him?

She nearly growled in frustration when she realized why. He'd been _kind_ to her, which meant that she owed him, in a way.

Serana sighed. "Why haven't you healed yourself?"

Nathan looked away, his amber-golden eyes suddenly sheepish. "I, uh…I don't know the spell."

She supposed that made sense. If he had relied on magic to see, then he wouldn't have wanted to use spells that used up the magicka that fueled his bizarre sight. As such, he wouldn't know many spells. Luckily, Serana knew a person that could help with that.

"Come on," she said, making sure to roll her eyes. She had a reputation to uphold, after all. "I know someone who can help."

He cocked his head curiously at her, but he pushed himself off the wall with a wince and followed her. Serana saw some of the people in the dining hall look up when Nathan entered, no doubt curious about what he'd been sent to retrieve. She was too, to be honest. But she also wanted him to be in one piece when she asked him about it.

Feran Sadri seemed surprised to see Serana in his alchemy lab. "Serana! What a welcome surprise!" He looked behind her at Nathan, who was holding his injured arm in one hand. "And our newest family member. I don't believe we've met."

Nathan stuck out his uninjured hand for the Dunmer to shake. After a moment, Feran shook it. "I'm Nathan. Nice to meet you."

Feran nodded. "Feran Sadri. What is it I can assist you two with?"

Serana nodded at Nathan, whose blood was dripping onto the floor. "He needs the spell tome for Necromantic Healing." She turned to look at him. "The regular healing spell wouldn't work on you now anyway."

He seemed relieved at that. "Thanks."

Feran nodded to himself and stroked his chin, though he had no beard. "It's a good thing my assistant carries around all that worthless junk." The Dunmer took a big breath, and Nathan and Serana managed to cover their ears just in time. "RONTHIL!"

A scared-looking Bosmer vampire emerged from one of the hallways leading into the small alchemy lab. Ronthil was a younger vampire, technically speaking, yet he was viewed by many to be the…scavenger of the court. Serana pitied him. "Yes, Feran?"

Feran rolled his eyes. "Ronthil, give this young…er, vampire the spell tome for Necromantic Healing."

Serana noticed Nathan's amused expression and couldn't help but give a little smile as well. It was obvious that Feran had meant to say "young man," and realized that Nathan was neither man nor elf.

"Er…for free?" Ronthil asked, looking distressed.

"Yes," Feran replied, at the same time that Nathan said, "Of course not."

The two vampires looked at each other for a confused moment.

"I'll pay you," Nathan reiterated, in unison with Feran, who said, "It's free."

All three males in the room looked incredibly confused. Serana rolled her eyes.

"Nathan will pay you, Ronthil," she said. "But you'll give him a discount, won't you?"

The Bosmer nodded vigorously. "Of course, of course. Just let me get it from whichever bookshelf I placed it on…"

Ronthil wandered off to find the tome, and Feran and Nathan both stared at Serana. The former's stare was almost in annoyance, but the latter had a sort of…admiration in his stare that she wasn't sure how to reply to. She took the easy way out: she shrugged. Nathan started to grin.

"Here it is," Ronthil said as he returned, carrying a spell tome with a golden cover. He handed it to Nathan, who in turn gave the Bosmer a small bag of gold. "I hope I was helpful."

Nathan gave the other vampire a reassuring smile, which—unlike many of the other vampires—reached his glowing eyes. "You were, Ronthil. Thank you."

Ronthil smiled in response, seeming generally pleased by Nathan's response. "You're welcome."

Feran rolled his eyes. "Why don't you go polish the display cases, Ronthil?"

The Bosmer immediately bowed. "Of course, Feran." He scurried off to do as he was commanded.

Feran raised a thick eyebrow as Nathan sat in one of the chairs surrounding the table, but said nothing when Serana gave him a stern look. Nathan winced when he saw the dead wizard who'd been dissected on the table, but a moment later he had translated the spell tome to Braille and was reading it with his finger.

Serana sat down next to him. "What were you sent to go do, anyway?"

Nathan looked up at her, but his finger was still gliding across the pages. Odd. "Oh. Nothing, really."

"There you are!" Garan Marethi exclaimed as he stepped into the room. "Where is the Bloodstone Chalice?"

Serana felt her jaw drop open. Nathan had been sent to fill the _Bloodstone Chalice?_ Her father must have been planning to make his move soon.

 _Not good,_ she panicked. _Not good at all._ What was she supposed to _do?_

Nathan winced. It might have been because the spell tome had started to smoke underneath his finger, or it might have been because of his minor wounds, or it might even have been because his humble persona had been violated.

"Let me get it," he said, as the spell tome turned to ash. Across the room, Feran harrumphed as his table was coated in the residue.

Nathan ignored him and reached for the pack he'd set at his feet, obviously not noticing that he was dripping blood onto it. After a moment of rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a silver cup embedded with diamonds and set it on the table. It seemed to be glowing with an inner light, and Serana saw red liquid floating around inside.

 _By the blood of my ancestors,_ she thought. _He actually did it._

"Ah," Garen said, smiling a smile that Serana thought was, for once, genuine. "Lord Harkon will be pleased." His eyes roamed over Nathan's many wounds as the half-elf began to heal himself. "You met Stalf and Salonia, I assume? Lord Harkon and I suspected they might follow you there."

Nathan didn't look up as he healed the deep wound in his forearm. "I killed them both." There was almost a sense of…regret to his voice, but Serana couldn't be sure.

"As well you should have," Garan replied. "Welcome to the politics of Lord Harkon's court."

Nathan snorted and moved on to a small cut in his shoulder. He seemed unimpressed by the "politics" of Harkon's court. By now, Serana knew better than to be surprised. She was quickly learning that Nathan was not like the other vampires that her father recruited.

"Vingalmo and Orthjolf both long for our lord's throne, but cannot make overt moves against him," Garan continued. "Each sought to gain power by using his underling to kill you and keep the Chalice for himself."

"Well, isn't that lovely?" Nathan muttered. Garan didn't hear him, but Serana did. She stifled a snort. Poorly. She ignored the amused look that the half-elf sent her way.

"By ensuring the Chalice reaches our lord, you have increased his power over them, and at the same time deprived them of their little pets." Garan seemed pleased, which was a rare sight indeed.

Serana, however, was even more confused and indecisive than before. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. She'd brought the Elder Scroll that her mother had wanted hidden directly to her father, and then she'd also brought him a new servant who'd increased his power over Vingalmo and Orthjolf. It seemed like no matter what she did, she was only helping her lunatic of a father. Was she supposed to openly oppose him? No, he'd just kill her. But she couldn't just go along with his plan, could she?

She managed to snap her attention back to the present just in time to see Nathan wince. But all his wounds were healed, now. Did he just wince at the notion of Harkon gaining more power?

Excellent.

"You've done Lord Harkon two great services." Garan still had that odd smile on his face, oblivious to the thoughts running through Serana's head. "Take what you've learned to heart, and be careful who you trust."

Nathan grabbed the Chalice and handed it to Garan, who held it as if it were an open vial of poison. Garan nodded respectfully at Serana, and then left.

"Good job, lad," Feran told Nathan, still across the room and engrossed in making a potion. He didn't even look back.

"Thanks," Nathan said, but he still looked unsure.

Serana thought that was the best news in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

"I need your help."

Serana paused as she passed the small reading niche, which still contained two chairs and the small table, stacked with books. She'd been reading an ingredients list and hadn't even been looking at the niche in question, but the person seated there still managed to notice her, despite the fact that his back was turned.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked Nathan, who was running his finger over the pages of a book.

"You have bibliosmia," he said, finally looking back at her with a goofy grin. He looked like he had finally gotten some good sleep—understandable, considering that things had been pretty quiet since he'd left for the Bloodstone Chalice a week ago. He was wearing a gray tunic underneath a brown leather coat.

He frowned. "Sorry. I meant that you—"

"'Have the aroma of old or good books,'" Serana recited, remembering one of the many large words that she had read before she was locked away. She smiled a little bit when she saw Nathan's stunned look.

"Sorry," he said again. "Most people don't know what half the words I say mean."

 _What's this?_ Serana thought. _An intellectual? Here? Impossible._

"Lucky for you," she replied, "I spent a majority of my childhood reading." She didn't mention that she had spent a large portion of her vampiric life reading as well, to avoid the loneliness.

He was still looking at her in that rather strange way of his, so she stepped up to the other chair and sat down. "What did you need help with?"

"These books are very confusing," he said, pointing at several of the books between the chairs. "I've been trying to learn more about vampirism, but half of these books contradict each other, and the others don't even make sense."

Serana winced. "Yeah. Most of those books are written by mortals, who don't really know what they're talking about." A thought occurred to her. "How was the book I gave you?"

Nathan nodded, looking excited. "It was fascinating, actually." He dug into his pack—which was sitting at his feet—and pulled out the book in question. "There was one passage—" He opened up the book, still translated into Braille, and she noticed something strange on the parchment.

"Did you get _blood_ on it?" Serana demanded, peering closely at the book's first page.

Nathan's excited grin faded. "Uh…"

"You got _blood_ on my _book!"_

"Well, in my defense, I was _trapped_ in a _cell_ at the time. I was a little too busy with escaping to worry about that."

Serana scowled, but Nathan's grin had returned. If she hadn't been infuriated with him, she would have thought it was almost cute, in a way.

"Here," Nathan said. "If it really bothers you that much, I'll fix it." He lifted a glowing hand over the page, and in a moment the problem was solved.

Serana barely resisted the urge to gape. Clearly, Nathan had been reading lots of spell tomes in the last week.

His grin only widened when he saw her expression. "See? Problem solved."

She glared at him, which only seemed to amuse him more. "What was your problem supposed to be again?" she grumbled.

Nathan was still grinning, but he gestured to the large stack of books. "If you could help me find the right books, I would really appreciate it. After all, you're probably the person who knows the most about this place."

 _More than you know,_ Serana thought gloomily. However, that gave her an idea. She needed to know if Nathan was opposed to her father without being attached to the politics of the court. And she also needed to know about events happening outside the castle. An idea birthed itself in her mind.

"On one condition," she said, holding up a finger and hoping that she wouldn't regret her decision.

"Sure?" Nathan replied, sounding unsure. "This doesn't have to do with cleaning books, does it?"

She couldn't resist a chuckle, though she quickly cut it off. "No, nothing like that. You've been living out in the world for…however many years old you are."

"Twenty-one."

"Right," she said. "Twenty-one years. You probably know all sorts of events that happened in the last couple of centuries, right? I'll teach you about the history of vampirism, and you can teach me about the history of…whatever is happening in the world today."

 _And in the process,_ Serana thought, _I'll learn what kind of person you are, and if I can trust you._

Nathan considered the proposition for a moment. Eventually, he spoke. "All right. But if I sneeze on a book, don't crucify me, all right? There's a lot of dust around here."

Serana smirked. "No promises."

And finally, the deal was struck.

— **|||||||—**

They actually covered most of history relatively fast. Nathan taught her about the foundations of the Empire, about the line of Septim, and the Wolf Queen Potema. In return, Serana taught him about the different clans of vampirism and how it first came to be, brushing over the more…gruesome details.

The one thing she refused to speak about was the foundation of their own clan, but Nathan understood why. He would avoid speaking about his family members too, if given the chance—especially if it involved each member giving themselves to a daedric lord.

They also covered the Oblivion Crisis, and the attempt of Mehrunes Dagon to enter Tamriel. Then they covered the eruption of Red Mountain, and got to more recent events. Nathan told her about the Forsworn Uprising, and Ulfric Stormcloak. He spoke about the White-Gold Concordat, which outlawed Talos worship and ultimately led to the brief civil war in Skyrim.

Nathan was hesitant to speak about the Dragonborn—A.K.A himself—but he reluctantly realized that he was a vital part of history. He tried to cover the return of the dragons in as little detail as possible while giving her all the main highlights, which seemed to satisfy her. He casually neglected to mention just who the Dragonborn was.

Nathan was pleased to find that Serana was as hungry for knowledge as he was. She learned at an impetuous rate, and often challenged him when he made small mistakes—which, he admitted to himself, he found a little pleasing. She was also incredibly intelligent, able to remember the smallest of details with ease.

A week or so after they had agreed on the informational exchange, a thought suddenly occurred to Nathan. They had taken a break from history to learn about Molag Bal, the patron of the Volkihar vampires. Serana had pulled out the book _Varieties of Faith in the Empire_ —a book she had sought out on her own, due to their history lessons. She was gesturing to a passage about the Daedric Lord in question—Nathan had begun to pick up letters printed in ink—and was saying something about how Molag Bal "corrupted" bloodlines of the Dunmer. Meanwhile, Nathan saw that in order to reach the book, she had leaned forward in her chair, and their shoulders and forearms were lightly touching as a result. She either didn't notice or didn't care. He was so busy trying to sort out the complicated feelings that the unnoticed touch brought on that the words just slipped out.

"Were you always a vampire?"

He knew the answer, of course. He'd heard as much from Harkon. But he wanted to hear her side of the story.

Serana's speech stuttered to a stop. "Uh…what?"

Nathan swallowed, worried that he had crossed a line. "Were you…er, always a vampire?"

She frowned, and leaned back in her chair, separating their shoulders. Not wanting to look strange, he leaned back as well. "That's…a long story."

"I want to hear it," he told her. He tried to send her a reassuring smile, and she actually seemed to relax a little bit. He was getting better at that.

She seemed to think for a moment, her glowing amber eyes narrowing at nothing. "I guess…we kind of have to go way back. To the very beginning." She fixed him with a stare. "Do you know where vampirism came from?"

It was a test, to see how much he remembered. Luckily, Nathan was just as intelligent as she was. "It came from a daedric lord."

"Exactly!" she grinned at him, and he felt the tips of his ears reddening. But then her expression faded to a more serious one. "The first vampire came from Molag Bal, which I told you about. But," Serana cleared her throat, "I didn't tell you that she…was not a willing subject. Yet she was still the first. Molag Bal is a powerful daedric lord, and his will is…made reality more often than not. For those willing to, er… _subjugate_ themselves, he will still bestow the gift, but they must be powerful in their own right before earning his trust. I doubt many today would measure up to those standards. Most vampires are happy with the vampirism they're given from the cave dwellers of Skyrim or such." She sighed. While not all vampires were savages, those particular types of vampires gave them all a bad name. That, and the whole " _feeding on blood"_ thing didn't do much to foster a wholesome reputation.

Nathan cocked his head at her. "How did you actually become a vampire, then?"

He was no expert with facial expressions, but if he had to guess, he would say that she had switched to a guarded one. Her lips were pursed, and her brow was furrowed. "The ceremony was...degrading. Let's not revisit that." Her voice sounded pained for a moment, but it was gone soon enough. "But we all took part in it. Not really wholesome family activity, but I guess it's something you do when you give yourselves to a Daedric Lord."

Now he was very curious. He was also worried about her, and worried that _he_ had caused her pain by asking about her past. "Do you…regret becoming a vampire?"

Surprise flashed across her face for a moment. It was one of the easiest expressions to read, he'd learned. "Nobody's ever asked me that before. I…I don't know. I think…mostly I hate what it's done to my family."

Yes, there was definite pain in her voice. Nathan wanted to say something to comfort her, but he wasn't sure what. Instead, he pressed on, not sure what else he could say. "What has it done to your family?"

She frowned again, deeper than before. Her eyes seemed troubled. "Well, you've met most of us." She spoke carefully, as if weighing her words. Her golden eyes flicked around the area, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, before she continued. "My father's not exactly the most stable, and eventually he drove my mother crazy with him. And it all ended with me being locked underground for who knows how long." She paused. "It's definitely been a bad thing, on the whole."

 _Interesting,_ Nathan thought. Serana hadn't mentioned her mother, save for that one time, back when they'd first met. He'd also never really thought about the other effects of vampirism. It had given him the blessed gift of sight, but he hadn't considered the other consequences much, just the advantages. Odd. Before he'd become a vampire, he hadn't considered the _advantages_ much. That worried him.

He focused back on the present, and he realized that Serana was still frowning. "Are you all right?"

There was that surprised look again. Why was she surprised? Was it really so rare that someone would check on her well-being? "I…yeah. Thank you."

Someone coughed politely. Nathan started—eyesight was less effective at detecting other people, and he'd been rather _distracted_ by her—and turned to find Garan Marethi standing behind them.

"My apologies," Garan said, nodding at Serana. "But Lord Harkon wishes to speak with Nathan."

 _Well, crap._


	8. Chapter 8

"Be careful," Garan told Nathan as they walked toward Harkon's quarters.

Nathan frowned. "What?" What was the old vampire talking about?

Garan seemed to hesitate for a moment, then continued. "You are new here, so I will try to make this as simple as possible. Politics bore me, but there are many here who view it as a means of succession. Vingalmo and Orthjolf—along with half of the other males here—have been vying for Serana's hand since they first arrived here. They may see your friendship with her as…competition."

Nathan felt his face heating up. "That's not…we're not—"

Garan rolled his eyes. "Of course you're not, boy. She is far above your station. But I am simply warning you that the others may see it that way, which is why I told you to be careful."

Nathan swallowed as they reached the door to Harkon's chambers. "Er…thank you." _Politics are stupid._

Garan nodded, and left Nathan at the door. He swallowed once and then knocked.

"Enter," Harkon's voice came.

Nathan made sure his back was ramrod straight—a habit picked up from his childhood—and entered the room.

Harkon's chambers were…strange, to say the least. On the one hand, it was just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, if not more so. He saw display cases full of odd trophies everywhere—one even contained a Dragon Priest's dagger—and elaborate tapestries hanging from the walls and ceiling. However, there was also a large cage in one corner, covered in blood. Nathan's throat tightened when he felt it. He _really_ needed to grab a blood potion.

Harkon sat in an elaborate throne, which was placed in front of a warm fireplace. A simple wooden one was placed next to it, and Nathan sat in it after a moment of hesitation. Harkon stared at the fire, showing no indication that he knew Nathan was there.

Nathan cleared his throat. "You wanted to speak to me?"

Harkon's eyes flicked to him, finally noticing his presence. Nathan couldn't help but think that the lord of the castle looked like Ulfric Stormcloak had; full of self-righteousness and a conviction that he was right. Nathan didn't particularly care for that kind of attitude.

"Yes, I did," Harkon said, voice sounding lazily disinterested. "When I told you that I was grateful for my daughter's safe return, I told the truth. But I did not tell you everything."

 _Welcome to the "let's-not-tell-Nathan-everything-he-needs-to-know" club,_ Nathan thought, not without a hint of bitterness. But he had expected this. "I suspected as much."

"Good," Harkon replied. He crossed his arms, and his glowing eyes grew…almost analytical, if Nathan was reading that right. "Strong instincts and a cunning mind will serve you as well as blade, spell or claw."

 _He speaks to me as if I were a child. Does everyone here view me like that?_

 _No_ , Nathan decided after a moment. Serana didn't. At least, not openly.

Harkon began to speak again, and Nathan forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. "As you know, vampires are powerful, but we have limits. Our great enemy is the sun, and until recently it's an enemy we've had no way to fight." Nathan remembered the sting of the sunlight on his skin and winced. "For centuries I searched for an answer to this problem. I found an old prophecy written by a Moth Priest, those scholars who read the Elder Scrolls."

Nathan instantly perked up. Elder Scrolls were…well, they needed to be put in the right hands. As of yet, he wasn't sure if Harkon's hands (or, well…claws) were the right ones.

"The prophecy tells of a time in which vampires will gain power over the sun, and will no longer fear its tyranny." Harkon's voice shed its disinterest, becoming excited. "I believe the secret to unraveling that prophecy is written in Serana's Elder Scroll. I have ordered the court to assemble. I have a new task for us all to carry out, and that includes you. Come now, and hear my proclamation."

 _What was the point of bringing me in here to speak about it?_ Nathan wondered. _There's something else going on here._

He didn't know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that he would soon find out what.

— **||||||||—**

Serana popped the cork off of a blood potion nervously. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

Harkon had asked for the court to assemble in the dining hall, which meant that he had some sort of announcement to make. And Nathan had been called to speak with him shortly before. Something was wrong. Her gut told her as much. It also told her that it had something to do with the Elder Scroll that she had brought back.

For the past two weeks, Harkon had been locked in his chambers with the Elder Scroll like the bizarre fanatic he was, sending out dozens of letters by carrier pigeon. Now, it appeared he was ready to share his findings with the court.

She took a sip of the blood potion, feeling the buzz of strength fill her limbs for a moment before it faded. For a panicked moment, she wondered if her father had somehow managed to find a way to decipher the whole prophecy, but that couldn't be possible. Her mother had never told her the whole of the prophecy, but she knew it required more than one scroll.

Nathan emerged from one of the hallways, holding a blood potion in one hand and his bag in the other. He looked nervous about something. Serana assumed that it must have had something to do with the talk he'd had with her father. He noticed her and gave a nod in her direction.

She still had to make her decision about him. He seemed like a good man—er, half-elf—but then again, most of the others had once seemed like good people. Hell, _Vingalmo_ had once been shy. How was she supposed to know if Nathan would stay the same? How could she know that he would help her?

She was forced to abandon those thoughts as Harkon stepped up to the small balcony overlooking the dining hall. He seemed smug, and she shuddered at the sight. That couldn't be good.

"Scions of the night! Hear my words!" her father exclaimed loudly. The excited chatter that had started in the dining hall silenced. Harkon waited for a moment before continuing. "The prophesied time is at last upon us. Soon we will claim dominion over the sun itself, and forge a new realm of eternal darkness."

 _Oh, no,_ Serana thought, her grip on the blood potion in her hands tightening. _No, no, no!_ This was _not_ a good thing. What was she supposed to do?

"Now that I have reclaimed one of my Elder Scrolls, we must find a Moth Priest to read it," Harkon continued from above. "I have spread false rumors about the discovery of an Elder Scroll in Skyrim to lure a Moth Priest here. Now it is time to see if those efforts have borne fruit. Go forth, and search the land for rumors of a Moth Priest within our borders. Look to the cities. Speak to innkeepers, carriage drivers, anyone who would meet a traveler. Go now, and carry out this task. This is my command!"

 _Stuff your command where the sun doesn't shine,_ Serana thought, her undead pulse quickening with anxiety. This was _really not good._

"Hmm," she heard Vingalmo mutter behind her. "Most interesting."

When she looked around, she saw that most of the other vampires looked intrigued by Harkon's proposition. Orthjolf looked like it was his thousandth birthday, as did Vingalmo. Fura Bloodmouth looked aggravated—when didn't she?—and everyone else looked like they were about ready to rush out of the castle to carry out her father's will. There was one person that was missing, however.

Serana frowned as she saw Nathan slip off to the room where they kept the coffins. If she wasn't mistaken, she thought she saw a troubled look on his face.

 _Well, there's one other way to find out what kind of person he is,_ she thought. Making sure that no one noticed her (they were all too busy scheming anyway), she followed him.

Her mind was awash with indecision and anxiety, even more so than before. She had to do something to stop her father, but she wasn't sure what exactly she could do. She could leave the castle and try to track down the Moth Priest herself, and then…what? She'd still need the priest to interpret the prophecy, so that she could find the necessary parts and destroy it, or maybe throw it into the Ghost Sea. And even if she did that, there was still a chance that one of her father's goons could get their hands on it.

Not good.

Nathan was packing things into his bag when she found him. His coffin was completely empty save for a change of clothes, which she realized were the ones he had just been wearing. He'd somehow managed to change into his weird, black armor in the few moments it had taken Serana to find him. He slung his pack across his back and strapped his dragonbone sword to his hip. She coughed to get his attention.

He had his sword drawn immediately, pointing it toward her with his right hand and with a glowing orange spell in his left hand. He relaxed when he realized it was just her.

"You're jumpy," Serana commented, hoping that he wouldn't be able to detect the urgency that she felt.

Nathan shrugged and sheathed his sword. "I have good reason to be."

She noted the hood and mask hanging around his neck. He was planning to leave, all right. "Any idea where you're going to find a moth priest? Skyrim's a pretty big place."

He frowned and cocked his head at her, clearly curious at how she'd known he was leaving to do just that. After a moment though, he said, "Do you have any ideas?"

That was unexpected. She hadn't anticipated him asking _her_ what she thought. She'd just assumed that he would know what he was doing. Odd.

And, she realized, she really _did_ have an idea.

"Well, back before I... you know," she started carefully, "the College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing. The wizards know about all kinds of things that people shouldn't know about."

Nathan winced. "You're probably right." He hesitated for a moment. Then: "They don't like me very much."

They stared at each other for a moment, and an idea suddenly popped into her head. One that was either one of her best ideas, or one of her worst. Only one way to find out.

"Actually," Serana said, trying to portray a sense of confidence, "now that I think of it…I'm going to come along with you. I've been really wanting to get out and explore a bit."

He grinned at that. "Thought you'd never ask, Castle."

She bristled at the nickname, but said nothing. His grin only deepened.

 _Oh, yes,_ Serana thought. _This was definitely a bad idea._

— **||||||||—**

Guy was very surprised to see them again. So surprised, in fact, that he fell right out of his sailboat and into the ocean.

Nathan cursed and rushed forward to help, but the boatman was already pulling himself onto the dock, looking at them like they had each grown a second head.

"You're both still alive!" he exclaimed.

Nathan took a moment to examine the Nord. Guy was a man—more of a boy, really—of about nineteen, with short, intense red hair and bright green eyes. His blue tunic and brown trousers were soaking wet, but he was still grinning like a maniac. Nathan couldn't help but grin behind his mask as well.

They were standing on the docks by the East Empire Company Warehouse, where Guy's small sailboat awaited. Nathan and Serana had agreed that for the sake of time, they would hire a boatman to take them to Winterhold, where they could talk to the mages. They hadn't expected to find Guy there, and apparently Guy hadn't anticipated their arrival, either.

"Don't look so astonished," Serana said, crossing her arms. There was a tint of amusement to her voice.

"I…sorry, but nobody else has ever come back from that island!" Guy said, drawing himself into a standing position. Nathan noted, with a hint of annoyance, that the boatman was taller than he was by a few inches. However, the Nord was as skinny as a rake. "From what I've heard, at least."

"Well, here we are," Nathan said, smiling though he knew that Guy could not see it. "We need another favor from you."

Guy's eyes lit up. "Sure! Where do you need to go?"

"Winterhold," Serana said from behind her hood. "As soon as possible."

Guy nodded and wrung out the bottom of his shirt. At least a gallon of water spilled onto the docks. "Yeah, yeah. I can do that." He took off one shoe and proceeded to wring it out as well. "Five septims."

Nathan cocked an eyebrow. "That cheap?" Last time, he'd given Guy a lot more money than he usually received. Most people would attempt to take advantage of that and ask for more the next time around.

Guy shrugged and placed his shoe back on his foot. "Well, I'm just glad you two are still alive. And besides, you gave me close to five-hundred septims last time. I'd say we're pretty even."

Nathan shook the boatman's hand. "Thanks, Guy."

"Let's get going," Serana said, clapping her hands together. "We don't have all day."

— **||||||||—**

 _Nathan was standing on the edge of a cliff. Darkness expanded below him, and light above. In his hands, he held a thick black book._

 _Something shot out of the darkness, aiming for the light above him. The sky suddenly turned red, like it was bleeding, and for the first time, Nathan was able to see into the depths of the rift. Something dark and terrible moved inside, squirming around like a giant snake. Several different appendages attempted to keep the terrible beast down: a large tentacle, a beam of light, a giant battleaxe, a tendril of darkness, a crescent moon, and a large tusk. It was all useless; the giant_ thing _ripped free of their control and burst into the sky, sprouting a pair of wings like a bat._

 _Beneath him, the ground rumbled, and Nathan struggled not to fall into the pit. The giant thing in the sky roared in triumph, then turned its horrible red eyes on Nathan. It opened its fanged mouth to devour him, and—_

Nathan snapped awake with a start, sweating profusely. He was shaking violently, and his teeth were chattering loudly. He'd reached for his dagger in his sleep and held it in front of him protectively.

Guy looked unimpressed. "You were having a nightmare."

Nathan looked around the boat, chest heaving. Guy's small sailboat was just big enough for three people, with a few ropes and a metal anchor sitting at the sailor's feet. Nathan was lying on a small nest of blankets that he'd made for himself, using his pack as a pillow. On the other side of the boat, Serana was still asleep in a similar area. The sun seemed to just be setting, and as Nathan looked out into the fading light, he saw a frozen coastline pass them by. Snow was slowly falling.

Nathan ripped his mask off of his face, finding it hard to breathe in all of a sudden. He tried to remember what had left him so terrified, but he was drawing a blank. The only thing he _could_ remember was the scent of sulfur.

Finally, when he had calmed down, he sheathed his dagger. He felt the fading sunlight on his skin, and flipped his hood up. "How long was I asleep for?"

"Just a few hour—" Guy cut himself off as he and Nathan made eye contact.

 _Oh no,_ Nathan thought, expecting a cry of fear or anger from Guy as he noticed Nathan's glowing amber eyes.

Instead, Guy just cocked his head curiously. In fact, he seemed able to stand straighter now that they were out on the water. "Are you a vampire?" he asked, as if it were the simplest question in the world.

 _No,_ Nathan wanted to say. _I'm an Argonian with an eye disease._ "Yes," he said simply.

Guy nodded and turned back to his sail. "Cool."

Nathan frowned, deeply. "That's it? No, 'By the divines! Kill the beast?'"

The boatman shook his head. "No." He hesitated for a moment, as if hesitant to share information, before he spoke again. "My sister became a vampire. And you seem nice enough." He cracked a smile. "I won't burn you at the stake."

Nathan gave a weak smile in return, but in his head he was turning over the information that he'd been given. Guy had a sister who'd become a vampire? Huh. Small world.

"Thank you for that," Nathan said. "I'm still new at this, but typically the reactions to this are not that great."

Guy leaned against the sail. "You're welcome. It took some getting used to with Nora, but I managed."

"Are you guys going to talk all night," Serana groaned, a blanket over her head, "or are you going to get us to Winterhold?"

Nathan and Guy both grinned.

"You're in luck," Guy said, grasping the pole that held up the sail. "We're here."


	9. Chapter 9

"Oh. It's _you_."

Nathan grit his teeth. "Nice to see you too, Urag."

The orc glared at up at him from his chair. Nathan approached the counter—not bothering to hide his newfound glowing eyes—and casually moved a book out of the way with a gloved hand covered in snow. Urag's eye twitched.

Nathan could practically _feel_ Serana's curiosity radiating from her, but they didn't have time to go over his long feud with the College of Winterhold. He gave the old orc a forced smile. "I need to find a Moth Priest."

"Do you _really_ think that you can just walk in here after everything you've done and ask for something like _that?_ " Urag demanded.

Nathan felt his blood pressure begin to rise, but he kept a semi-civil tone. "I. Need. A Moth. Priest."

"What in Oblivion do you need a Moth Priest for?" the orc replied. "Don't you—"

"Oh, please," Serana said, stepping forward. Urag frowned when he saw her, and Nathan snorted when he realized that the librarian had been so focused on Nathan that he hadn't seen Serana come in. "If we don't get some information on this Moth Priest, we'll discover just how well spell tomes burn." She held up a hand that crackled with lightning for dramatic effect.

Nathan gaped at her. _She_ was the one threatening the destruction of books? After she'd nearly decapitated him for getting a splotch of blood on one?

Urag had a similar expression. "You wouldn't."

Serana's face was dead serious. "Try me."

They locked gazes for a few moments, but eventually it was Urag looked away. "Fine, fine. Don't get your breeches in a twist." His voice sounded strangled. "The obvious answer is to go to the Imperial City. The Moth Priests make their home in the White Gold Tower." Serana glared at him, flexing her outstretched hand dangerously, and he continued after a moment. "Sometimes they go out looking for Elder Scrolls. Lucky for you, there's a Moth Priest in Skyrim right now, doing just that. He stopped in to do some research in the library, then left for Dragon Bridge. If you hurry, you might catch him there."

Nathan's jaw dropped even further, and he couldn't resist staring at Serana with admiration. Had she really just pried information from _Urag gro-Shub?_

"Remember, boy," Urag added to Nathan. "If I ever see you here again—"

Nathan waved his hand in dismissal, but inside he was seething. "Yes, yes, you'll unleash angry atronachs upon me. You've said it before."

He turned to leave, but he heard Urag mutter, "That didn't stop you before."

Nathan felt his anger explode like a fireball, and the thing in his chest lurched along with the fury. He started to turn to face the orcish librarian, but Serana grabbed his arm tightly and dragged him toward the door.

"You are going to tell me _exactly_ what happened," she told him in an undertone.

Nathan took a deep breath to calm himself. "I need a drink first."

— **|||||||||—**

The Frozen Hearth Inn was, essentially, the only point of interest in all of Winterhold. In Nathan's mind, at least. After seven at night, everyone gathered there, even the Jarl and his son. A fireplace burned in the center of the room, giving the room a warm, cozy feeling. In the corner, a bard played the lute softly, barely covering the individual conversations in the tavern.

Nathan made a beeline for the bar, which stood surprisingly empty. He sat down on one of the stools and heard Serana do the same next to him.

"What'll it be?" Dagur, the owner of the inn, asked them.

"Argonian Bloodwine," Nathan immediately replied, placing a few septims on the counter. Dagur hesitated for a moment before reaching under the bar and retrieving a tall, blue bottle. He popped the cork off the top and reached for a tankard, but stopped when he saw Nathan's glare. Nathan smelled the sweat on Dagur's brow as he realized what Nathan was, or at least how dangerous he had the potential to be, and after a moment the barkeeper placed the bottle on the counter for Nathan without saying another word.

Nathan grabbed the bottle, lifted it to his lips, and took a long swig. Almost immediately, he felt the anger in his chest begin to soften as the sweet tasting alcohol made its way to his stomach.

Serana watched it all with a curious stare. When he came up for air, she began to speak. "So what's the deal with you and the College?"

He took another drink of the bottle before he replied. "When I first came to Skyrim, I wanted to go to the College to learn more about magic. Faralda let me in, but Mirabelle Ervine tried to kick me out when she saw that I was a half-elf. It was partly because of Ancano, the Thalmor who was assigned to the College." He winced when he felt the angry fire rise in him once more, and drank again. "Eventually they let me in, after a week of furious debate. But when I went to the library, I was not allowed to translate spell tomes to Braille so that I could read them. I think they wanted me to fail all my classes so they could kick me out."

He paused, staring at a stain in the wooden counter. When he'd first come to Skyrim, he hadn't realized just how strong the stigma was against half-elves, on both sides. It _still_ made him angry, but he'd learned to manage it a little better, mostly by avoiding those sorts of people.

"There's more, isn't there?" Serana asked. She was a good listener―maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right places, not wavering when he took a swig of the bottle in his hands. She seemed to actually _care_ about what it was that he was saying, and…well, that was a first for him. Most of the people around his age that he'd met were still spouting off their parents' nonsense, not having formed their own opinion yet.

Nathan shook his bottle of wine a little bit, watching the liquid inside swirl around, before he answered. "There was an…orb, of sorts. It caused a big mess, and the Arch-Mage ended up dying. Since I was the one who discovered it, everyone blamed me for his death and the almost-destruction of the College. It didn't matter that I stopped the destruction of Winterhold from happening when no one else could. All they saw was a blind half-elf who, in their minds, didn't have any right to be there."

He drank again. These were old memories, and he hadn't expected them to come back with such force. It was a little…embarrassing, actually. He'd learned the hard way that showing weakness in Skyrim, regardless of who your parents were, would be repaid with malice and people trying to take advantage of you. But when he looked back at his companion, he found something surprising in her eyes: _understanding_. He still didn't know that much about her—which made sense, considering that they'd only met two weeks ago—and he wondered if she'd ever had to experience some ostracism of her own. The strange light in her eyes that didn't come from her connection a daedric lord seemed to hint at it, at least.

"I'm sorry about that," she eventually said, sounding genuine. Then again, she pretty much always seemed to be telling the truth, or speaking her mind. "Turns out people don't change much after a few centuries."

Nathan shrugged, feeling a slight buzzing in his mind from the alcohol. "I'm used to that kind of treatment. Live a couple years in Skyrim, and you become as thick-skinned as any Nord." His assertment was somewhat lessened by the large pull from the bottle he took. Drinking helped him not be as angry—which seemed to be the opposite effect that it had on most people.

Serana was silent for a few moments. She appeared to be figuring out what to say. Eventually, she said, "I hate people."

Nathan smiled grimly at her. Some people were, indeed, almost as bad as daedra. He would have left Skyrim a long time ago if not for the rare few who didn't hate him upon meeting him.

"So what now?" he asked after another minute or two of companionable silence. He didn't want their little escapade to be thrown off track because of a few bad memories that were still chasing him. "Head to Dragon Bridge on the nearest cart?"

Serana pursed her lips in thought. "Maybe. Do you think Guy is still around here somewhere?"

Nathan thought about that for a second. The alcohol may have calmed him somewhat, but it had also dulled his senses. He usually avoided drinking in public for that reason―he could never tell when there was a bandit-to-be lying in wait for a drunk to make a slip-up.

"Possibly," he finally settled for saying. "Do you think he'd still be willing to take us? After all, we're going right back to where we started."

At that, she cracked a smile, a little more cheerful than the ones she'd given him earlier that night. "Nothing like a goose chase around the whole damned province."

No sooner had the words exited her mouth did one of the doors to the rooms burst open. None other than Guy came stumbling out, scratching at his bright red hair and yawning. He didn't seem to notice them, pulling out a small coin purse and walking toward the bar. Clearly, he intended to drink himself to sleep. It was a common sight for sailors, at least from what Nathan understood. Often, he'd found, they were more comfortable sleeping on their boats than on an inn. Unfortunately, Nathan and Serana would need to interrupt their poor boatman's sleep schedule.

— **|||||||||—**

After a little bit of haggling (bringing the price up to a staggering _ten septims_ ), Guy agreed to transport them back to Solitude, on the condition that Nathan give him the rest of his Argonian Bloodwine.

Serana was barely concerned that their boatman was drinking and sailing. Before she'd gone to sleep for such a long time, she'd seen a lot worse (namely drinking and fighting with a dull iron dagger). So instead of worrying, she spent the boat ride with a ball of light floating above her head so that she could read her book, _The Night of Tears_.

For once in her very long life, she had a hard time focusing on her reading. She couldn't help but think back to Nathan's story, how he'd been shunned by the mages of Winterhold just because of who he happened to be born to. There'd been a sense of… _hurt_ in his voice…something that not even the strong wine could cover up. And, surprisingly, she found that she recognized that hurt. She felt it inside herself whenever she thought of her upbringing, or her parents.

She'd been wondering whether or not she could trust him. Now, the answer was a little clearer. She could _relate_ to him. She wasn't sure yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He certainly didn't seem to be a bad person.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Guy piloted the boat into Solitude's harbor, switching to the use of a long pole to push the boat to the docks. Serana stuffed her book back into her satchel and started to stand as Guy tied the sailboat down.

She rolled her eyes when she heard a snore from Nathan's relaxed form. At some point during the journey, he'd pulled his hood low over his head, and had apparently fallen asleep. She should have expected that; for one, new vampires often found it difficult to adjust to a nocturnal schedule. That, and he had been a bit drunk when they got into the sailboat.

She sighed, hesitated for a moment, then kicked him in the shins. They didn't have time to waste, and she had never really been subtle anyway.

He was awake in an instant, drawing a small dagger from his ankle and slashing out with it. It was only a hasty step back on Serana's part that kept her from being sliced open like venison on a nobleman's table.

Unfortunately, this rocked the boat significantly, and both Nathan and Serana were forced to grab something to keep their balance. But Guy, who had been in the middle of stepping onto the dock with one foot still planted in his boat, was not so lucky. After a curse, the boatman crashed into the water with a large splash. Again.

Serana glared at Nathan, who looked sheepish as he sheathed his dagger. She only got a brief look at what looked like ice before it was gone. "He he. Sorry."

She rolled her eyes again as Guy climbed out of the water and onto the dock, spitting an actual _salmon_ out of his mouth. His red hair was plastered to his forehead.

"I hope you're not going to make a habit of knocking me into the water," he told Nathan.

Unexpectedly, Nathan's face flushed red. Serana had half a second to think that it looked almost charming before she cut that thought off.

"Sorry," Nathan repeated, standing. Under his hood, his face looked haggard and tired, despite the fact that he'd just been asleep. He stepped out of the boat and onto the dock, offering Guy a hand to stand up. Guy grumbled something unhappily but took the hand.

Serana stepped out of the boat—making sure not to fall over—and winced as the bright sunlight touched her skin. It was going to be a long day. Maybe she should have done what Nathan did and attempted to sleep in the boat.

Not that it mattered. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep, not now, when they finally had a lead on the Moth Priest, but wasn't because she was scared of finding him.

It was what happened after that that scared her.


	10. Chapter 10

"These guards are looking at us weird," Serana muttered.

"I know," Nathan replied in a low voice. "Just ignore them, and they should ignore you."

"That's the advice you give someone when they're dealing with _bears_ , not _people,_ Nathan!"

He snorted. "Don't worry. Most of these guards would be lucky to have the _intelligence_ of a bear. We'll be fine."

She wasn't so sure. They'd arrived at Dragon Bridge an hour ago, and had wasted time asking dozens of people if they had seen a Moth Priest around. None of them had, and they all asked questions in return that neither Nathan nor Serana could answer without raising even more questions about who they were and what they were doing.

Dragon Bridge was a small town, with only a few people living in it. As such, they were a tight-knit community, and everyone knew everyone else's business. It sort of reminded Serana of her father's court, though far less malevolent and (literally) blood-thirsty. And like Harkon's court, people were starting to get suspicious of simple actions.

She didn't like it when people stared at her. It made her feel like an object in a display case—boxed in, and only there for someone else to use or enjoy. She refused to be any of those things. That was part of why she was in this whole mess in the first place. Well, that and her psychotic family members.

"Relax," Nathan advised her under his breath. "You look like you just assassinated the Emperor."

Serana relaxed her shoulders. They were standing under a tree for the shade that it provided. The sun was high in the sky, and since there was no cloud cover, it seemed even more oppressive than usual. Despite the hood she wore to cover her face, she felt like a group of angry villagers were burning her at the stake from the heat. They'd been searching for a while, had found nothing, and now people were getting suspicious. And he wanted her to relax?

She turned to glare at him. He had managed to stay calm and collected, like this was something that happened every frustrating day. His posture was almost slouched, and he crossed his arms as he leaned against the tree. His glowing amber eyes scanned the village behind her, but if she looked carefully enough, she thought she could see a trace of worry there as well. If nothing else, it seemed he had experience with attempting to remain unnoticed. It made sense, considering what he'd told her of his past and his experiences with the natives of Skyrim.

The words had burst out of her mouth before she even realized she was thinking them. "Why are you doing this?"

His eyes immediately flicked to hers with a frown. "What do you mean?"

Serana could have kicked herself. What a stupid, blunt way to put it. Then again, she usually was fairly blunt. Why did she care this time?

She tried again, attempting to be a bit more gentle with her question, but not really sure why she made the effort. "Why are you helping my father?"

There a million other questions she wanted to add. " _Can't you see that he's a lunatic?"_ and " _Don't you know that thousands of people will suffer if he manages to complete the prophecy?"_ made the top of the list.

Nathan made a thoughtful face as he contemplated her words. Now that he had his eyesight, his facial expressions were much easier to read. He seemed unsure, then conflicted, and finally…sad?

"I suppose," he said eventually, his voice slow and deliberate, like he was being careful. "That I owe Harkon a debt for the eyesight that he gave me. I don't like owing people."

She realized two things as he spoke: that Nathan had neglected to use the title "lord" for her father, and that the "gift" that Harkon had given him had been purely eyesight, not power. No, this half-elf was not obsessed with power like the other vampires of the court. He even seemed to have a sense of honor, which shouldn't have been surprising considering all the time she'd spent with home over the past few weeks.

"And it's not like I have anything else to do," Nathan added, his tone a little lighter than before. "Besides, I'm curious to see how this turns out."

The last two reasons sounded much more compelling that the supposed "debt" that he owed her father. At least, that's how Nathan made it sound.

Curiosity and boredom. She could work with that.

Serana opened her mouth to speak—though she was unsure what words would come out—but another voice interrupted before she had a chance.

"Hi! Are you a soldier? Someday I'm going to be a soldier!"

Nathan and Serana both turned to find a young boy of about eleven staring back at them. He wore a blue tunic and red pants (which seemed like an odd combination to her, but who was she to judge?) and, strangely, had a goat at his side. He had brown hair shaved close to his scalp, and his dark eyes were lit up with a sort of childlike excitement.

Serana felt a sort of ache in her chest when she looked at the boy. He had an innocence about him, and seemed happy. As a child, she'd never really had naivete, which seemed like a bizarre thing to wish for. She'd been happy, of course. But that was before everything had gotten so messed up. She was loathe to admit that she still yearned for both things. As a result, she wasn't sure how to react to the sudden appearance of the child.

Nathan, on the other hand, grinned widely, and the expression seemed to melt away all his previous exhaustion. He kneeled down so that he and the boy were at eye level, and if the kid was perturbed by Nathan's glowing eyes underneath his hood, he didn't show it.

"Actually," Nathan said, still grinning, "I'm a Legate in the Imperial Army."

The boy's face split into an amazed smile. "Really?" he asked, mirroring Serana's thoughts and raised eyebrow. He hadn't mentioned anything about that in their little history lessons, despite the fact that he had covered the brief civil war in Skyrim.

Nathan nodded. "Really."

It was hard to explain, but to Serana, it seemed that Nathan's eyes were lit up with the same childlike energy that the boy possessed. This came as an unexpected surprise, especially when the thought, _he's really very handsome when he does that_ , ran through her head. She immediately tried to silence it, but it was like trying to break a brick wall with a bale of hay.

"What's your name, bud?" Nathan asked.

"Clinton," the boy replied in a proud voice. "What's your name, mister?"

Nathan stuck out his hand for the young Imperial to shake. "Nathan."

Clinton looked absolutely starstruck as his small hand shook Nathan's larger one, and Serana couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Say, Clinton," Nathan said, cocking his head at the boy. "You wouldn't have happened to see a Moth Priest come through here, would you?"

 _Now he's being ridiculous_ , she thought. _If none of the other townsfolk know about it, how can this boy_ —

Clinton frowned, though he still looked eager to help. "I don't know what a Moth Priest is, but…I did see an old man in a robe not too long ago. He was riding in a wagon with some Imperial guards. They didn't stop to visit, though."

Nathan's grin widened, so much so that Serana thought it would crack his face in two. "Did you see where they went, Clinton?"

The boy scrunched up his faith in thought. "They rode through town, heading south, and went across the big bridge. It was only just a little bit ago. I bet you could catch them if you hurry up."

Now Nathan was positively beaming. "Thanks, Clinton." He dug into his pack for a moment and dug out a small coin pouch. "Why don't you go buy yourself a wooden sword, or maybe some sweets?"

Clinton's grin rivaled Nathan's. "Wow! Thanks, mister!" He hugged Nathan briefly, then grabbed the coin pouch and ran off, his goat trailing behind him.

Nathan dusted himself as he stood, still grinning a little bit. He paused when he noticed Serana staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, still staring. She couldn't help it. "You're just really good with kids."

His smile turned a little rueful at that. "I just treat them the way I wanted to be treated as a kid." His grin faded without warning. "Come on. Let's go get that Moth Priest."

— **||||||||||—**

Nathan thought it very fortunate that he had decided to take his bow and arrows with him this time around. It was even more fortunate that they were his best bow and arrows.

Both had take him an incredibly long time to craft. The dragonbone bow originally had spikes jutting out of the front of it, but after a few cuts and torn clothes, Nathan had carefully whittled the spikes down to nonexistence. The pale bone of the archery weapon had been dyed a dark gray so that it wouldn't stand out in darkness, and the grip had been painstakingly adjusted to fit his hand perfectly. Paarthurnax called it _Vokunos,_ or "Shadow Striker." Nathan thought the name was a bit dramatic.

The arrows had taken significantly less effort to craft, but it was by no means easy to get the dragonbone into the shape of an arrowhead, not to mention the fact that it had to be just the right weight to be shot from the bow without falling to the ground before it found its target. Normally, he wouldn't have wasted the arrows in a small cave such as Forebears' Hideout, but when he saw who was waiting for them, he was immediately glad that he had brought them.

The Dawnguard had arrived.

Before, if someone had told him that the Dawnguard would take out a large group of vampires―like the group that had formerly taken up residence in the cave they'd just entered―he would have laughed. When he'd arrived at Fort Dawnguard, it had been little more than a storage facility, with a maximum of three people guarding it at all times. But when Nathan and Serana snuck into Forebears' Hideout, he couldn't deny that the group of vampire hunters had grown _very_ organized _very_ quickly. There had to be at least twenty of them in the small cave system, all armed to the teeth. They'd somehow managed to take out the rival group of vampires that he and Serana had tracked from a wrecked cart along the road leading from Dragon Bridge.

"Mara's toenails," Nathan cursed in a whisper. He ignored the strange look that Serana gave him at his words and notched an arrow to his bow. He hadn't been expecting the Dawnguard to be there and didn't want them to be.

It wasn't that he had lingering loyalty to the vampire hunters. For one, he'd had nominal loyalty in the first place, after the racist treatment he'd received from their hands. For another, he accepted that he was a vampire, and he didn't particularly want to be around vampire _hunters_ —which just seemed like common sense. No, his reluctance to be around them was for an entirely different reason.

He hadn't killed a human since becoming a vampire.

He'd killed people before, of course. As Dragonborn, it was sort of part of his job title―and even without it, he'd had to kill more than a few bandits, cultists, and mercenaries in self-defense. But never before had he killed people when he had this raging thirst for blood inside of him.

He'd felt it ever since his visit to the College of Winterhold, even more strongly than it had been before. He wasn't sure if it was because of how long he'd gone without a blood potion, or if had been because of his agitation, or another reason entirely. All that mattered was that on the boat ride back to Solitude, Nathan had drunk himself stupid so that he'd pass out—because the thumping of Guy's blood in his veins had been too loud for Nathan's ears. The only time it hadn't been present was when he had spoken to Clinton, which relieved him in some ways.

It was _maddening_. Nathan wondered how the other vampires in Castle Volkihar dealt with it, then realized that they didn't—they just ate and drank whatever (more like _whoever_ ) they wanted, whenever they felt like it.

The only upside was that he did, indeed, feel more powerful. For some reason, he just _knew_ that he had a strange set of abilities brought about by his lack of feeding. For example, he knew that if he really concentrated, he could turn invisible for just a few moments, without the use of a spell. He also knew that he could convince a man not to fight just by looking into their eyes. Powerful abilities, to be sure, but Nathan would have preferred a blood potion. He'd forgotten to take one with him when he and Serana had left the castle.

To sum it all up, he felt nervous about the Dawnguard, not because of what they would do, but because of he _might_ do when he smelled their blood.

"Are you all right?" Serana asked him, when she noticed that he seemed to be breathing slightly heavier than normal.

Nathan snapped himself out of his reverie. "Um…yeah." Then, a little more convincingly, "I'll be fine."

He focused on the layout of the cave to distract himself from his thoughts and the millionth odd look that Serana had given him that day. Forebears' Hideout was a large cavern, with what looked like a collapsed fort inside. Nathan wasn't even sure how the fort had even _gotten_ underground, and he didn't want to think about it lest he give himself another headache. There also seemed to be some kind of blue magical barrier set up at the top of the fort, and if he squinted, he thought he could make out a gray-robed figure huddled inside of it. Impressive, for a rival group of vampires.

However, the more important part was that several hounds were patrolling around the base of the small fort, and a Dawnguard member was walking along the parapets. He knew there were more of them out of sight (which was odd, not being able to see everything while at the same time _not_ seeing it), but the ones that he _could_ see were the biggest threat.

It was terrible planning, really. Any archer worth their fletching could easily take out all of them. But Nathan was no ordinary archer. He'd never shot with eyesight before, but it didn't really matter. With magic, he was the best shot in Skyrim.

He closed his eyes and instinctively reached out with his magic, letting the familiar shapes and senses wash over him. Luckily, any magical interference seemed to be limited to the top portion of the fort. In his mind's eye, the Dawnguard members were all outlined in blue, and some of them even had purple mixed in. The disturbing part was that now, with Nathan's enhanced sense of smell, their bodies now had red veins that followed their major arteries. It didn't really help his problem of thirst much.

He ignored the flash of anxiety that thought brought on and breathed out as he drew back on the bowstring, just like Niruin had taught him all those years ago. He lined up his shot with one of the patrolling canines below and released the arrow, letting magic guide his hands.

It was flawless. Nathan barely paused to admire the shot as the first dog went down before drawing back and firing at the next one, and then the one after that. It had taken a span of about four seconds. The Dawnguard patrolling atop the parapets didn't even notice. That was his mistake, and he fell a moment later to a dragonbone arrow to the heart.

Nathan opened his eyes to admire his handiwork. The other Dawnguard in the fort didn't suspect a thing. Perfect.

Serana was staring at him. He hated it, but he felt the tips of his slightly pointed ears reddening. He thanked Talos that the cavern was dark, so that she couldn't see.

"What?" he asked her.

"You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?" she replied, a teasing smirk on her lips.

Nathan made a big show of rolling his eyes so she wouldn't notice the red spreading from his ears to his face. He nodded down the steps that led deeper into the cavern and said, "Come on, Castle. We've got a Moth Priest to retrieve."

He heard her hiss in displeasure at the little nickname he'd given her and grinned. Oh, yes. Traveling with her was going to be fun.

His grin faded as he sneaked forward. He could _smell_ the blood that he'd just spilled. Most of it was canine blood—which seemed far from appetizing. But the closer they got to the small fort, the stronger the smell of human blood became. His throat suddenly felt dryer than a desert, and the thing in his chest jerked unexpectedly, stronger than before. He stopped for just a moment when he felt it, then continued on. They were mere feet away from the entrance to the open-space interior of the fort. He drew _Vokunos_ from off his back and readied an arrow on his string. He started to lean around the corner to see how many Dawnguard were inside, then realized he was being stupid and reached out with his magic instead.

What he saw gave him pause. He checked again, just to be sure, then opened his eyes and turned to his partner-in-crime.

"They have an _armored troll!_ " he whispered as quietly as possible to Serana, eyes wide.

She looked worried for about half a second, and then her expression changed to nonchalant. "I guess we'll have to show them how many of those it takes to subdue two vampires."

By the _Divines_ , he _liked_ this woman.

Nathan smiled a small smile to himself and turned back to the entrance. He was about to charge in when he heard a conversation.

"Those vampires put up a hell of a fight. You think they turned him?" a female Dawnguard asked.

"I don't know," another―distinctly male―voice responded. "We won't know until we get him out of there."

"How do we do that?" a third Dawnguard asked.

"Vanik's working on it," the first Dawnguard told the third.

The second one scoffed. "Vanik's dumber than a box of rocks. We're gonna be here for weeks."

"Shh!" a fourth Dawnguard exclaimed. "Do you want him to hear you! Shut it, all of you."

And that was when Nathan rolled out from behind cover, releasing his arrow at the first Dawnguard he saw. With magic, the dragonbone arrow took the heavily armored vampire hunter right in the eye socket. The three other Dawnguard had approximately one second to look surprised before an ice spike from Serana took the one on the right in the chest and a bolt of lightning from Nathan took the one on the left. Both fell, leaving one armored troll and a very scared looking Dawnguard left behind.

The last Dawnguard opened his mouth to shout for help, but an arrow caught in his throat. Blood spurted everywhere as he dropped, and Nathan froze in a half-crouched position on the ground.

The smell of human blood was overwhelming now. As a mortal, the iron-like scent had disgusted him. As a vampire, it made him feel dizzy and weak in the knees.

He had to have some of it.

Just a drop.

Just—

Something crashed into him, knocking him to the side as the armored troll charged forward with a horrendous roar. The troll missed Nathan by mere inches.

Nathan landed hard on his back, and a juddered heartbeat later, Serana was rolling off of him.

"Thanks!" he told her, feeling his ears heat up despite the dangerous situation.

"Icebrain!" she retorted, pulling him to his feet.

 _Right,_ Nathan reminded himself as he drew his dragonbone sword. _Dawnguard. Armored troll. Moth Priest. Focus, you dolt._

Serana raised her hands—a spell in each—and together they faced the armored troll, which was slowly turning to face them. Nathan began to raise his sword, sweat coating his neck due to the burning campfire directly behind them.

An idea struck him. A rather brilliant idea, he thought.

"Make it angry," he told Serana, drawing his sword from his waist.

" _What?_ "

"Do it!"

She shook her head in disbelief as she lifted her hands. "This is insane."

"Yep!" Nathan exclaimed with glee.

She rolled her eyes and launched an ice spike at the troll, which had been glaring at them uncertainly. The spike struck it in the chest, but unfortunately the beast's armor plates protected it. Fortunately, it did succeed at making the beast furious.

 _I think I need to reexamine my definition of "fortunate,"_ Nathan thought as the beast began to charge. He called the telekinesis spell to his left hand, and tugged as hard as he could on the troll's chest plates, turning its trajectory toward him. It roared in rage, and Nathan stood waiting for it.

Three paces.

This was a bad idea.

Two paces.

Was it too late to change his mind?

One pace.

 _Now!_

Nathan dove out of the way at the last possible second, and felt his arm scrape against the troll's shoulder plates. He hit the ground hard about a yard away, and heard a terrible screeching sound behind him.

He rolled over onto his back to see the troll consumed in flames, roaring in agony. As he suspected it would, the troll had charged right into the bonfire that had been behind Nathan. Since the beast's fur was naturally flammable (which he had learned after a failed alchemy lesson in Morthal), it was the perfect recipe for roasted troll.

He barely had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before a crossbow bolt thudded into the dirt beside his face. He turned his head to look at it for a second before his instincts kicked in, and he rolled his whole body to the side, right as three more crossbow bolts struck where he'd been a millisecond before.

Nathan jumped to his feet and looked up. The second level of the miniature underground castle overlooked the first, and it was filled with Dawnguard soldiers, all of them wielding crossbows.

"Mara's toenails," he swore for the second time that day. Above him, the archers cocked their crossbows.

One of Serana's ice spikes hit a Dawnguard right in the groin, and he screamed as he fell off the edge. She launched a lightning bolt, which actually managed to hit two Dawnguard at once. Both dropped like rocks.

Nathan grinned savagely as he called the telekinesis spell to both hands, and _pulled_ on the front of two Dawnguard warriors' armor. Both fell to the ground below them and did not get up again.

The rest of the archers must have recovered their senses, because they actually fired their crossbows at them instead of gaping in horror at their fallen comrades. Nathan was forced to roll to the side yet again to save himself, and as soon as he was upright again he pulled two more Dawnguard to their deaths.

Talos take him, but this was _fun._ Nathan was having the time of his life, exhilarated for the first time in weeks by a proper battle—even if the other side didn't really stand a chance. When he glanced at Serana, she seemed to be grinning (just a bit) as well. They made a good team, he managed to think.

Finally, there was only one Dawnguard archer left. Frantically, she loaded her crossbow and aimed it at Nathan, but he lazily waved his hand and the woman went flying—but not before she fired a crossbow bolt that nicked Nathan's cheek as it flew past.

He cursed as he felt his face with one hand, wincing at the sting he felt. Blasted Dawnguard. If there had been any doubt before, there wasn't now: Nathan was _not_ a fan.

There was still shouting coming from the top level of the fort, and the blue barrier was still strong. Still a few more to go.

Nathan looked at Serana, who was standing a few feet away. He dramatically gestured at the stairs leading up to the second level. "Shall we?"

She nodded, somehow managing to look determined and amused at the same time. "Let's."

They strode forward in unison, and Nathan took the free moment to secure his weapons as they climbed the stairs. Sword in one hand and a spell in the other, he stepped up to the second level to find…only two Dawnguard waiting for them.

The first was a woman in standard Dawnguard armor. She carried a strange, glowing blue stone in one hand and stood above the body of an orcish vampire. In her other hand, she held a large war axe with the Dawnguard symbol engraved in the metal.

The second had to be Vanik, then. He was a man in heavier armor than the previous warriors, completely bald and appearing to be middle-aged. He carried an elven sword and a steel shield with the symbol of the Dawnguard on it, and his lip curled in disgust when he saw Nathan.

"So," Vanik said, sneering at him. "The half-breed decides to be a traitor to all of Tamriel as well as his bloodline. Have you come here to die?"

 _Now_ Nathan remembered. He'd met Vanik before, at Fort Dawnguard. Vanik had been the most verbally abusive (though the others certainly weren't innocent), calling Nathan a "race-traitor" despite the fact that, technically, he was neither Bosmer nor Nord. Vanik had also said a lot of other things that Nathan didn't feel comfortable repeating, even in his own head.

His grip tightened on his sword. "We'll see who dies, Vanik. Vampirism is surprisingly good for things like _survival._ "

Vanik scowled. "I'll burn you at the stake, monster."

"I'd love to see you try, prick."

Vanik charged forward suddenly with a fierce yell, and Nathan rushed forward to meet him. The back of his mind, the more analytical side, noticed that Serana stopped the second Dawnguard woman from rushing him as well with a spell that was quickly dodged.

Then Nathan was in the thick of it, thrusting his sword toward Vanik's chest only to have it blocked by Vanik's shield. Vanik slashed at Nathan from the left, and he dodged out of the way, using the telekinesis spell to draw the stalhrim dagger from his ankle into his left hand as he did. For a moment, he and his opponent circled each other, each looking for weaknesses in the other's defense. Across the room, Serana's magical battle with the Dawnguard woman raged, almost loud enough to drown out Nathan's heartbeat in his ears.

He could end the fight very easily by giving Vanik a taste of his thu'um, he knew. But Serana was still somewhere in the cave, and she would instantly be aware of his true identity. Besides, he had his own reasons for choosing not to Shout. No, he'd do this the hard way.

Nathan's eyes flicked to the Moth Priest, who was still cowering inside the magical blue shield. A second later, they returned to Vanik, and that was all the invitation the vampire hunter needed.

Vanik ran forward, sword thrumming in from the side, aimed for Nathan's neck. But that was exactly what Nathan was counting on.

He twirled out of the way right before Vanik's sword would have made contact and slammed his dagger into the back of Vanik's unprotected knee. The man cried out in pain as he fell to one leg, and Nathan spun, using his momentum to carry his dragonbone sword through Vanik's neck, separating his head from his shoulders cleanly. It bounced away and fell off the same ledge that the archers had been standing on mere minutes before. He heard it hit the floor of the cavern with a _thud_ and a _squish._

Nathan sighed as he flicked blood off of his sword. Luckily, the stench of burnt troll was still strong in the air, so he focused on that instead of the blood pouring from—

 _Nope,_ he told himself, stubbornly looking up at the cavernous ceiling. _Don't think about that._

He looked back down a moment later when he realized that it had gone almost completely silent in the cave, save for the soft buzz caused by the swirling blue shield around the Moth Priest. He looked over at Serana and found her leisurely leaning against a coffin, examining her nails as if she'd been standing there for hours.

"What took you so long?" she asked, smirking. Her glowing eyes were lit up with amusement, though she pointedly avoided looking at Vanik's body.

"Oh, you know," Nathan replied, cleaning his sword on the back of his leg. "Had to stretch some sore muscles." He leaned down and took his dagger from Vanik's body, cleaned it, and placed it back in his sheath in one smooth motion. Nathan looked back up at Serana. "What now?"

She held up the strange glowing rock that the other Dawnguard had been holding. "I'm willing to bet that this shuts down that forcefield. You wanna do the honors?"

Nathan shrugged, and she tossed the stone to him. He caught it with both hands and examined the strange markings on it for a moment before looking up yet another set of stairs, where a stone podium sat. Reaching out with his magic, he could feel a small amount of power originating from it, the same kind as the forcefield he stood next to. It was a simple thing to plug the small focus stone into the podium. There was a faint rumbling from the depths of the tower they stood on, and then the shield was gone in the blink of an eye as if it had never been there.

The Moth Priest was a man in his mid-forties, with balding gray hair, a long, bushy beard, and worry lines all over his face. He wore simple gray robes, and had a sword that reminded Nathan of the design of the Blades' at his waist. The Moth Priest was hunched over, but suddenly straightened.

His voice rang out in the cavern. "But my master is dead, and his enemies will pay!"

 _Well, that's just great,_ Nathan thought as he hurried down the steps, hand on his sword, eyes fixed on the enthralled priest. Whatever control Malkus had exerted over the Moth Priest before his death still seemed to be in effect. Marvelous. Now they'd have to—

The Moth Priest started to step forward, drawing his sword, but then Serana was there. She ducked under his blade and hit him in the back of the head with a rock. The Moth Priest collapsed instantly.

 _Yep,_ Nathan thought. _I definitely like this woman._

He quickly finished descending the stairs and stepped up to Serana, who stood over the Moth Priest with an unimpressed look on her face.

"I hope not _all_ priests are this lame nowadays," she said, prodding the gray-robed man at her feet with a toe. "They were made of tougher stuff a long time ago."

Nathan swallowed and didn't answer. Instead, he leaned over the Moth Priest, trying to see just how injured the Imperial was. Other than the bump on the back of his head, he appeared to be in fairly stable condition.

"Now what?" Nathan asked.

Serana looked uncomfortable for half a moment. "Now you need to make him your thrall."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "My thrall? How do I do that?"

She quickly explained it to him, sounding slightly discomfited as she spoke. Nathan assumed that she thought the practice of making thralls was distasteful, and he'd have to agree with her. Although, the feeding part didn't sound half bad to his blood-starved mind…

The Moth Priest at their feet suddenly thrashed, and Nathan put a foot on his chest casually, like stepping on a rock. Below him, the man glared.

"If you think I'll help you," he spat, "you're mistaken."

Nathan said nothing. Instead, he grasped one of the newfound powers that he knew he had and fixed the priest with a hard stare. As soon as the Imperial's eyes met his, his whole body went limp, like a freshly boiled noodle. Nathan hauled the Moth Priest to his feet, and the man didn't protest. He looked around in a daze.

Nathan knew he had a limited amount of time before the spell wore off, but he looked at Serana, partly to tell himself that he was doing what needed to be done. She nodded levelly at him.

Nathan's mouth was watering. Taking a deep breath, he cocked his head back and buried his teeth in the Moth Priest's neck.

It scared him how wonderful the blood tasted.


	11. Chapter 11

A few minutes later, the Moth Priest was calm, cool, and collected.

Oh, and he also seemed to be completely devoted to Nathan.

"By the Divines!" the priest exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at Nathan. "It's as if my eyes have been opened! I am blinded by the light of your majesty! I…I must obey you." He spoke his words like he was a child who'd just been given a new toy.

Nathan was very put off by this. He turned to Serana, who looked simultaneously amused and just as freaked out as he felt. "Does this normally happen?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. Other times they stay quiet and stare at you. It's strange, really."

He grimaced and looked back at the Moth Priest, who looked at Nathan like Brynjolf looked at a lockbox. "What's your name?"

"Dexion Lewis Evicus, master," the priest replied. He started to bow, but Nathan stopped him.

"You…don't need to do that," he told him. By the Divines! It would have been amusing if it didn't _completely freak him out._

Dexion cocked his head at Nathan. "What would you have of me, master?"

Nathan winced at the term "master." He was no one's master. Still, he needed Dexion to get to Castle Volkihar, and he wasn't sure if he could stomach traveling with the obsessed priest for a few hours. "I…er, _command_ you to, uh, travel to Castle Volkihar."

Serana cocked an eyebrow. "Authoritative."

He shot her a glare and turned back to Dexion, who looked confused and star struck at the same time.

"Certainly. Where can I find this castle?" Dexion asked.

Nathan went over the directions in his head for a moment. "Off the northern coast of Skyrim, due west of Solitude."

Dexion gave Nathan a grin that seemed more at home on Clinton's face than an old Moth Priest's. "I'll set out at once, then. Unless you wish for me to accompany—"

" _No_!" Nathan said quickly. Behind him, he heard Serana snort.

"Very well, master," Dexion said. He nodded at Serana before running off.

Nathan groaned and rubbed his face, then winced as he felt the cut there. It was a deep one, and it was still bleeding just slightly. Muttering a curse, he lifted a glowing hand to his face and healed it.

"You're getting better at that," Serana commented.

He turned to look at her, wiping blood off his face with the back of his hand. Despite her intense battle with the Dawnguard woman, who'd apparently been a mage, she appeared unharmed. He wondered if she'd healed herself already, then noticed that there weren't any tears in her clothes, nothing to indicate a healed wound.

Wow. She'd gone through that whole battle unscathed, and _still_ looked beautiful. His ears reddened at the thought.

He cleared his throat. "Should we…uh, get going?"

She didn't notice his embarrassment, for which he thanked Talos. "Yeah. Let's wait a few minutes though, give Dexion a head start."

Nathan sighed in relief at that. "I think this 'thrall' thing is gonna end up biting me in the butt."

"You'll get used to it," Serana replied, though she didn't look sure.

 _Yeah,_ Nathan thought. _And maybe one day, people will stop hating half-elves. It's just as likely._

— **|||||||||||—**

When they returned to Castle Volkihar, the court was in a flurry of excitement. Well, that was what it seemed like. Serana knew everyone in the court well enough to know that they were angry and frustrated that she and Nathan had discovered the Moth Priest before them, and were smiling aggressively to cover it up.

Harkon was waiting for them, sitting in his ornate throne like he didn't have a care in the world. But Serana was well-versed in seeing past his facade of sanity, and she could see the eager gleam in his red eyes as he watched Nathan and Serana approach. Dexion stood in front of the stairs across from the mad vampire, looking around in wonder. Nathan quickly hurried past his thrall, avoiding looking at him.

Serana would be lying if she said that his reaction to having a thrall wasn't relieving. She herself found a thrall's devotion to their "master" disturbing. Many others, however, found it as another symbol of their power.

She was very sick of that attitude. In her mind, power was something to be _used_ , not flaunted. It was a tool, not an embroidered cloak. Not so to the other vampires in her father's court.

At least, it had been that way for them all, until Nathan had arrived…

It had been a surprisingly easy decision to trust him. Or, well…it was just _easy_. She didn't even remember making the choice, but somehow between Winterhold and the journey back to Castle Volkihar, she'd realized that she did, indeed, trust him. Maybe it had been the fight at Forebears' Holdout. Maybe it had been his interactions with Clinton. Maybe it had even been the way Nathan had so obviously resisted the urge to feed until it was absolutely necessary. Perhaps it was everything combined, but the end result could hardly be denied.

It had been a while since she trusted someone. She hoped that it wouldn't end up being the death of her.

"Well done!" her father called from his throne. Nathan stood in front of him at the table, and it was him that Harkon addressed, despite the fact that Serana stood right next to Nathan. Typical. "Somehow I knew it would be you and Serana who found our Moth Priest." His voice was cold and calculating, as per usual. Once, his voice had been warm when he spoke of his daughter. That had been a long time ago, but Serana would be lying if she said she didn't miss those days.

"I have made the Moth Priest my thrall," Nathan replied. His uncomfortableness was barely noticeable, and Serana hoped that her father was too busy reveling in this small victory to notice.

"Yes, I see that," Harkon said, sounding bored. "I trust his capture was not too difficult a task?"

Nathan shrugged, but the movement seemed forced, like he was trying to _act_ natural instead of _being_ natural. She found it odd that she could notice the difference. "The Dawnguard tried to stop us. They posed no threat."

Harkon cracked a smile at that, and Serana struggled not to shudder at the sight. "I wish I could have been there to hear the sound of their screams." The smile transformed into a smirk. "Well, your thrall awaits, and we have given him the Elder Scroll. Command him to read it, and let us hear the words of the prophecy together."

Nathan's eye twitched—another outward sign of his uncomfortability—but he nodded. He shared a look with Serana, and she followed him as he walked across the room to Dexion.

The Moth Priest had the Elder Scroll across his back, similar to how Serana had carried it before. As soon as Dexion saw Nathan, he lifted his hands in a gesture of praise. "Master, I have done as you asked and traveled here."

Nathan winced at the terminology. "I, uh…I have new task for you."

"Of course!" Dexion exclaimed. "What is it that you need me to do?"

Nathan nodded to the giant thing on the priest's back. "You must read that Elder Scroll."

Dexion's smile seemed a little less like a result of his thralldom. "Ah, yes, the Elder Scroll. I admit, I'm looking forward to this."

He hesitated, as if waiting for instruction, and Nathan rolled his eyes. "Then you may begin your reading."

"Of course, master." Dexion reached for the Elder Scroll with one hand, drawing off his back quickly. He looked at the rest of the court—which was looking on curiously—and said, "Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate."

Serana nearly chuckled at the appalled look on several of the vampires' faces as they realized that they had been commanded to shut up by a mortal. Quickly, before Dexion started to read, she sat down in a nearby chair so that she was out of the way, and she heard Nathan do the same.

Dexion pulled down the bottom of the Elder Scroll, and at once there was a strange light and power that seemed to fill the room, as if an ancient and powerful being had stepped into the dining hall to have a chat. Dexion's eyes rolled back in his head, yet he spoke in a clear voice.

Serana tried her best to stay still as Dexion described a great bow, resplendent in silver and gold and elaborately engraved. The description struck a chord with her, but it was not until he spoke the words "Auriel's Bow" that she fully understood the gravity of the situation. Auriel's Bow was a powerful weapon and magical artifact. To put it in her father's hands smelled of evil and foolishness. Who knew what sort of things he could do if he got his hands on it.

Dexion staggered suddenly, but his eyes (at least, the whites of his eyes) remained stubbornly fixed to the Elder Scroll. He took a step back so that his back was braced against the wall, and Serana thought she could see his knees shaking. But he continued to read.

"The voice fades and the words begin to…shimmer and distort." His voice sounded pained. He may have been annoying, but she was still worried about him. After all, he was a relatively innocent man who had been dragged into all of this. "But…there is more here."

Across the room, Serana saw her father lean forward in anticipation. In contrast, Serana leaned farther back in her chair as if she could escape the prophecy through that action alone.

Dexion continued after a moment, and it was clear that the reading was taking more and more out of him. He looked like he could barely stand, and Serana considered helping him up for a moment before deciding against it. For one, it would be perceived as a weakness to the other vampires of the castle. For another, it was possible that she could catch a glimpse of the Elder Scroll and accidentally blind herself because she was unprepared. All she could do was hope that Dexion didn't faint before he finished reading the prophecy.

Or perhaps that was what she wanted. Then her father wouldn't be able to hear it in its completion.

Not that it mattered much. There was little left, other than Dexion declaring that there were other parts of the prophecy written in other Elder Scrolls…Elder Scrolls that spoke of dragons…and blood.

Serana stiffened as a realization slapped her in the face. Nearby, she felt Nathan do the same. When she glanced over at him, she found that his eyes had gone wide, and his skin seemed to have paled even further than it already was.

"My vision darkens, and I see no more," Dexion finished, visibly sweating. "To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls." Finally, he lowered the Elder Scroll, looking as if he had suddenly run a marathon. Thick purple bags had appeared under his eyes, and he appeared to be swaying on his feet.

Nathan and Serana stood.

"Get some rest, Dexion," he told the Moth Priest.

"Of course, master."

Nathan and Serana shared another look, and she could tell that they had both been shaken in different ways by Dexion's reading. When she turned to look at her father, she found a small spike of pleasure at the frustrated expression on his face.

"That was…not as useful as I would have liked," Harkon said when they approached. "Even so, you did well." He sounded pained just saying that.

"Do you know where these other scrolls are?" Nathan asked. There was a strange undertone to his voice…almost a deceptive one. He knew more than he was letting on. When Serana caught his eye, he gave her a look that said, " _We'll talk about it later."_

Harkon sighed, oblivious. "My traitor _wife_ stole one of them away and then disappeared. As for the other, the last I heard, it was lost in the bowels of a Dwemer ruin." He scowled. "It seems our work is not yet done. But I have waited this long, and we are so very close, now. I can wait a bit longer."

He turned to the rest of the court, which was listening in eagerly. "Your new task is to find these last two Elder Scrolls!" But he seemed tired and frustrated, and he stormed off to his quarters without saying anything else to the court.

For a moment, all the vampires just stood there. Then all of them started murmuring to themselves.

Serana elbowed Nathan. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

He must have sensed the urgency in her voice, and he nodded up at the small reading niche that overlooked the dining hall. Without needing to speak, they started off for their little hiding place.

No one was in the alchemy lab when they passed through it, which was just as well. When they reached the small balcony, Nathan pulled out a random book and sat down in his typical spot. Following his example, Serana sat down in the other chair. Nathan leaned forward as if he were lecturing her, and she followed suit, pointedly staring at the pages of the book and not at his face—which was, she noticed, very close to her own.

"What's on your mind?" he asked her in an undertone.

"That Moth Priest," Serana replied in a low voice, "Dexion. He said we needed two other Elder Scrolls. I think I know where we can start looking."

"Why didn't you say something?" Nathan nodded down below, where Vingalmo and Orthjolf were both busy plotting with their respective underlings.

She cocked an eyebrow at the half-elf. She thought the answer was rather obvious. "Didn't want that lot getting wind of it." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "Especially my father."

She dared to glance at his face and was surprised to find concern flashing across his features. She found it amusing that she was still somewhat surprised by his compassion. After all, they really were very similar.

"What is it with you two?" Nathan asked slowly, as if wary of offending her.

Serana paused for a moment, not sure how to answer that right away. "Ever since he decided to make that prophecy his calling, we…kind of drifted apart."

Silence for a moment. She dared to look over at him and found his eyes firmly fixed on her face, a look in his eyes that she didn't know how to quantify. She looked away lest he see the heat that rushed to her face (but she was _not_ blushing. The mere thought was intolerable).

"Does Harkon even care about you anymore?" Nathan asked softly after a moment. The words were harsh, but not spoken unkindly. Just the opposite, in fact. There seemed to be a sort of…empathy in his words. Almost like he knew what she felt. Not for the first time, she wondered what his parents had been like.

She answered honestly. "You know, I've asked myself the same thing. I thought…" She swallowed as some of the hurt she'd been pushing down for years resurfaced. "I hoped that if he saw me, he might feel something again. But I guess I don't really factor in at this point. I don't even think he sees me as his _daughter_ anymore. I'm just…a means to an end."

Nathan seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then laid a hand on her arm. She jumped at the sudden contact and took a risk to look back at his face. "I'm sorry."

She looked into his eyes to find that strange understanding that they shared lingering, along with…something else. She certainly didn't notice that a lock of brown hair had escaped the usual crow's nest on top of his head and curled onto his forehead. And she _definitely_ didn't think it was cute. That would be preposterous.

Nathan cleared his throat after a moment, and she realized that she'd been staring. The tips of his ears had turned bright red. "So…where is this Elder Scroll?"

 _Right,_ Serana thought. _There's something important going on here._

"We need to find my mother, Valerica," she said. "She'll definitely know where it is, and if we're lucky, she actually has it herself."

"You said you didn't know where she went," he replied, brow furrowing.

"The last time I saw her, she said that she'd go somewhere safe…somewhere that my father would never search." Serana frowned as she remembered the events leading up to her centuries-long slumber. "Other than that, she wouldn't tell me anything. But the way she said it... 'someplace he would never search.' It was cryptic, yet she called attention to it." Her frown deepened as she thought about it.

"It sounds like she was being cautious," Nathan told her, looking meaningfully into her eyes. He was trying to make her feel better, she knew.

"…maybe," Serana eventually conceded. "What I can't figure out is why she said it that way. Besides, I can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking. And he's had all this time, too. Any ideas?"

Nathan's brow crinkled in thought, and he looked down at the dining hall. She could practically _see_ the gears turning in his head, like one of the dwarven automatons she'd read about. He must have forgot that his hand was still on her arm, but for some reason it was hard for her to do the same, especially when her skin seemed to heat up under his touch. She must have been imagining it.

It didn't help that the way the candlelight caught on his face was so…er, _appealing_ , for lack of a better word. It was probably just a side effect of spending so much time with him. After all, it had been a little longer than two weeks around him, and she wasn't _blind._

She mentally winced at the word choice. She'd _noticed_ that he wasn't ugly, is what she meant. He wasn't! But just because she noticed something of the sort didn't mean _anything._ She was allowed to have eyes, after all.

"What about right here, in the castle?" Nathan suddenly said, looking back at her, which she was not expecting.

Serana's brain seemed to go to sleep for a moment, then woke up. A jolt of excitement shot through her. "Wait…that sort of makes sense!" She quickly lowered her voice when she realized how loud she'd just been. One of the vampires below looked up, then returned to Vingalmo's machinations. "I used to help my mother tend a garden in the courtyard here. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say that my father couldn't stand the place. Too…peaceful." That should have been their first warning.

Nathan smiled a little at her excitement. "Isn't that pretty risky, staying around the castle?" He looked around, as if Valerica could somehow be hiding in the shadows.

Serana rolled her eyes. "Absolutely. But my mother's not a coward." She hesitated. "That is, I don't think we'll actually trip over her there. But it's worth a look."

Nathan glanced down at the dining area below, where most—if not all—of the vampires were gathered, still chattering excitedly. "How can we get in without your father noticing?"

She was immensely pleased by the question. It meant that he thought Harkon was just as crazy as he actually was. "Trust me. I lived here for a very long time, and I know every nook and cranny. There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there. I think that's our way in."

Nathan grinned at her, and she couldn't help but return it. "Well, then. Let's head to the castle's secret entrance."

He stood, and for once, Serana wasn't regretting one of her decisions when she followed him.


	12. Chapter 12

Vingalmo watched Serana and the half-breed leave the castle through the front doors and scowled, arms crossed. Around him, his servants chattered like jungle monkeys, providing little insight of use.

 _So,_ Vingalmo thought unhappily, t _he half-breed thinks he can usurp what is rightfully mine._ Even Orthjolf knew that Serana's hand had been his for…well, forever. Then again, perhaps Orthjolf didn't know. The Nord was dumber than the dragons his people's legends revered. Even if Serana herself didn't know it, the power that marrying her would provide _would_ be his.

Even if he had to kill the half-breed to do it—along with anyone else who got in his way. Perhaps it was time to get his hands dirty.

Across the room, Orthjolf glared at Vingalmo. The vampires that gathered around the Nord sensed his agitated mood and began whispering insults about the Altmer.

To be honest, Orthjolf couldn't care less about Harkon's daughter. He only wanted to marry her so that Vingalmo couldn't—and for the power, of course. It never hurt to have more of that. Maybe when he made Serana his wife, the other vampires of the court would finally see that Orthjolf had a legitimate claim to the throne.

Of course, the half-elf would be a problem. As would Vingalmo. But Orthjolf would succeed. He always did. It was time to get involved.

— **||||||||||||—**

Nathan flipped up his hood as they walked outside. The sun was just beginning to set, but its light still stung against his skin. He'd taken to leaving his mask off, because it actually restricted his eyesight just slightly. He nervously fingered the hilt of the sword at his waist. He couldn't help but feel like this was a bad idea.

Serana led the way, striding forward with a confident gait toward the end of the bridge. Nathan, feeling a bit paranoid, checked to make sure that the watchman was not around, but the elderly fellow was mysteriously absent.

He jogged to catch up with his companion. "I feel like we're being watched."

"It's the gargoyles," she replied, waving a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry. They only come out when mortals are about, and even then, they can't tell my father about where we're going. We'll be fine."

Nathan frowned and forced himself to take his hand off his sword. Why was he so nervous about being found out?

The answer came like a punch to the gut: it was because Harkon reminded him of his father.

Immediately, Nathan pushed the thought away. _Hard_. He hadn't thought about that in a long time, and he didn't intend to now. Instead, he started to talk to take his mind off of the bad memories.

"Were you and Valerica close?" he asked Serana as they stepped off the bridge.

She paused for a moment, then turned right, stepping into the grass. Nathan followed. "Well, before my father became obsessed with the prophecy, mother and I spent quite a bit of time together." She cracked a small smile. "She was very fond of her alchemical garden in the castle courtyard. She taught me quite a bit about cultivating quality reagents."

Now Nathan was curious. He didn't remember much about his own mother. He stepped over a large rock and carefully avoided a root. The small beach they had stepped onto was full of dead plants, but to someone who had recently been granted eyesight for the first time, it was still beautiful. He looked up at the castle, which towered overhead as he spoke. "So you always got along?"

"Like the best of friends," Serana replied with a little smile gracing her lips. "I would never hesitate to share anything with her."

There was a sad note in her voice, and Nathan was surprised by the sudden, overwhelming concern he had to see if she was all right. He paused, then said, "Why don't I ever see you at the alchemy lab, then? Feran's been lending me spell books, but I haven't really seen you there…?"

He trailed off, sure that he had crossed some sort of line when Serana's shoulders tensed and she stopped walking. When he caught up to her, he noticed that the lines of her face seemed to have deepened, making her seem much more... _tired._

"It's too familiar," he heard her mutter, almost as if she were talking to herself. Then, just a touch louder, "I used to make potions all the time, before…before everything changed. Back when we were all…" She trailed off, and he noticed that she was fiddling with the clasp of her cloak, emblazoned with the Volkihar Clan symbol of the strange hydra.

Nathan understood. He'd had similar vices not too long ago. Before everything on Solstheim, he'd been quite good at smithing, and…other things. Before he'd entered Skyrim, before his mother had died, he'd enjoyed playing the lute―mostly because it had made his parents both happy, for once. Now, he engaged in none of those activities, for they carried too much pain with them, and he was out of practice anyway.

Carefully and slowly, so as not to startle her, Nathan laid a hand on her shoulder, as a way of letting her know that she wasn't by herself anymore. She had a way of speaking that oozed with loneliness when she spoke of her family and the court, and the way she behaved in the castle seemed to hint that she didn't really consider any of those people her family. He couldn't imagine how lonely it must feel, being surrounded by people who were supposed to love you but couldn't give you the time of day. At least he'd had one loving parent, for a while. Serana had had neither for far longer.

"I…" Serana's voice cracked, and she cleared her throat loudly. She didn't remove his hand on her shoulder. "It was almost like one day we were a normal family, and then the next…I didn't know who they were. I'd try to visit my mother in the garden, and she'd quickly shoo me away, saying she was much too busy."

Nathan followed his hand around, turning so that he was facing her fully. His other hand flinched toward hers for but a moment, but he held it back.

"I'm sorry," he told her, and he meant it. "I know how it feels to be slowly abandoned. No one should have to go through that, and especially not someone like you."

Serana didn't look at him, but he got the feeling that was only natural for her. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that she didn't like to be vulnerable. But that didn't stop her from lifting a hand to cover the one he had on her shoulder. A moment later, he thought she felt her squeeze it gently. "Thank you."

The gesture suddenly felt too intimate, too warm for his cold body. Quickly, he coughed and turned away before...whatever it was that he was feeling when he looked at her could grow any stronger.

"So, uh…that's why we're headed there?" he asked, trying to find a topic that wouldn't cause his follower so much pain or him so much strange warmth.

Just like that, the moment of…strange intimacy was broken, and Serana snapped her head back up to look at him, determination in her eyes once more.

"She _had_ to be up to something in that garden," she responded, her voice now clear and firm. "I'm hoping it's a clue that will tell us where she went."

They fell silent for a few minutes as they walked. The sun was down now, yet Nathan found he could see just as clearly—if not more so—as when it was day. Above them, the castle loomed, like a giant monster.

She noticed. "The castle looks so big from down here." He shot her an amused look. "Well, it _is_ big, but…well, even bigger."

He chuckled. A cold wind blew in from the sea, and he shivered. Luckily, they seemed to have reached their destination.

They crouched down as they observed the inlet. It looked like it hadn't been used in a hundred years, but Nathan knew that it had been longer. It was crafted out of dark stone, like the rest of the castle. There was a small space for a ship to dock, and it looked like there had once been boxes that had long since deteriorated into nothing sitting on the stone dock. Above, on the second level, he saw a small wooden door leading deeper into the castle. It smelled vaguely of rot and, oddly, bone meal.

Nathan's amber eyes narrowed at the dock. He didn't need his magic to see the skeletal guards patrolling around. There were at least five of them, all armed with ancient nordic weapons. They were hardly a threat, and for a moment he wondered why Harkon allowed such inferior beings to guard an obvious entrance into the castle—then he remembered that with Harkon's current goals in life, he wouldn't be thinking about "trivial" things like that. Besides, it was unlikely that he even remembered the place existed.

He started to draw his bow, then paused. He didn't want to waste quality arrows on beings that could be easily dispatched by a sword swing or two. Instead, he looked at Serana, who was viewing the inlet with analytical eyes. "What do you think?"

She looked back at him, surprise written all over her face. Why did she always look surprised when he asked her things like this? The wind started to blow, and she brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face as she spoke. "A few spells would make short work of them."

He nodded with a small smile. Despite growing up in a castle, she had the mind of a battlemage. In a way, he sort of envied it. Thinking about magic and the spells he'd learned was still new to him. "Let's go, then."

It took very little effort to defeat the skeletons. Their weapons were subpar, and half the time they fell apart with the simplest of spells. When the last bone clattered to the dust, Nathan hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Hopefully everything after this will be as easy," he said, dusting bone meal off his Nightingale armor.

"I rather doubt it," Serana replied, kicking a bone. It rolled across the ground with a hollow _clunk_ sound. "If my mother did have something hidden here, she would have kept it well protected."

Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. "Then we'd better not keep these 'protections' waiting."

He allowed Serana to go first like the gentleman he was, though it was really because he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He wanted to watch their backs.

As Serana opened the door to the undercroft, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. It smelled like death and decay, and not the kind he had grown used to in the court's dining hall. No, this smelled like the undead—like draugr, skeletons, and death hounds. He could already tell that this was going to be fun.

As the door shut behind them, he crouched down out of instinct. The place had this _sense_ about it…before, he'd never understood what people meant by "creepy." In part, it was because his magical sight didn't show cobwebs, statues, or dim lighting in the way that his eyesight did. Unfortunately, the undercroft was full of all three.

He touched the dagger sheathed in his ankle for comfort. It felt cool against his skin, though not as cold as it might have once been. Now that he had joined the ranks of the undead, cold didn't bother him as much anymore.

"This way," Serana said, also crouched. She nodded down the steps, and he nodded in return, a signal that he would follow her lead.

As they went, he couldn't help but notice how skilled she was at the art of stealth. Her clothes (he should see if he could find her some better armor) barely ruffled at all as she walked, and it was not due to an enchantment. However long she'd been alive, a long part of it had clearly been spent learning how to stay quiet.

That was both encouraging and disheartening in very different ways.

A few minutes later, after they silenced a filthy skeever, and before Serana reached to open a wooden door, he touched her arm to stop her without thinking about it. She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he withdrew his hand after a moment. His ears felt like a furnace.

"Did—" he cleared his throat. "Did you spend a lot of time down here?"

 _Smooth, Nathan,_ he told himself, then frowned at that thought. Why would he need to be _smooth?_

Serana didn't seem to mind. Either that, or she didn't notice. "I like to explore. My parents almost never let me off the island, so yeah, I poked around down here a lot." She glanced back at the dead skeever. "It was a little…quieter, back then. Guess a little vampire girl was enough to scare off the rats."

Nathan's frown deepened, and she must have noticed. They were still crouched down and speaking in intense whispers, yet when Nathan spoke, there was a sincerity and level of worry in his voice that surprised even him. Maybe it was because her words brought to mind multiple strange and painful memories. "That sounds pretty lonely."

Serana looked him in the eyes, and he thought that his undead heart would stop—though whether it was from the emotion trapped in her glowing orbs or the way they seemed to light up the darkness in the room they stood in, he wasn't sure.

"It was," she said. Then she smiled a small smile that seemed like more of a grimace. "But I got used to it."

She turned away from him and, her elven dagger in one hand, she pushed open the door to the room beyond.

Almost immediately, Nathan drew his bow and notched an arrow to the string. There were four death hounds in the cistern that they had stepped into, and all of them were staring straight at them. Judging from the half-feral vampire standing among them in rags, these dogs were not friendly.

What followed was a semi-intense battle, where Nathan was forced to dive to one side and Serana to the other. Still, it was over in less than five minutes, which seemed a little long to Nathan. Then again, it was because three out of the four death hounds had pursued him, and they were a lot more challenging that they first appeared.

He muttered a long string of curses as he pried one of the dead beasts' jaws off of his left arm. The vampiric dog had bitten deep into his forearm, and he hadn't been able to get rid of it until the last of the monsters was dead.

"Mara's untrimmed armpit hair!" Nathan vehemently cursed, as the death hound's body dropped to the ground and blood began gushing from the deep wound in his arm. He tore off his glove—cursed again—and searched for something to seal the bite with, since he was out of magicka. Another side effect of a death hound's bite? It drained magicka. Not that there was much left to drain. He'd used a lot just to keep most of those blasted hounds at arm's length.

"Here," Serana said, stepping over one of the new corpses in the room. She had a worried frown on her face. "Let me, icebrain."

Nathan opened his mouth to protest—he was perfectly capable of finding something to bandage himself with before he bled out, after all—but she shot him a glare and he snapped his jaw shut. She took his arm carefully (showing a surprising amount of tenderness for someone who just speared another vampire with an ice spike) and examined it for a moment, wincing. Already, a red ring of infection was spreading around the bite.

Nathan decided then and there that he was never going to have a death hound. He knew that Castle Volkihar had a few wandering around, but there was no way in hell he was taking one with him anywhere, not after this.

Serana looked around the room for a moment before leaning over and plucking a blue mountain flower from the ground. There was a shelf of alchemy ingredients nearby, but it had been overturned in the battle. She dusted the flower off for a moment, decided it was suitably clean, and then ground it into pulp with her free hand. When she saw Nathan's questioning look, she said, "These blue mountain flowers are good at curing infection and relieving pain. It's a good thing you didn't heal this; the infection would have still been there. Being a vampire protects you from diseases, but not things like that."

Nathan stared at her for a moment, wondering how she could possibly know all that. Then he remembered what she'd said about her mother, how Valerica had taught her all about alchemy. The most _he_ knew about alchemy was how to make a potion that let him carry more junk. Mostly valuables.

Serana looked back up at him, oblivious to the way that he was staring at her. "This might hurt."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean it might— _ow!_ " He bit his tongue, hard. "Mara's nostrils! I thought you said this _relieved_ pain!"

She looked amused at his curious way of cursing. As he had spoken, she'd coated a strip of cloth (he wasn't sure where she'd gotten that) with the pulp from the flower and laid it over his arm. The moment the makeshift bandage had made contact with his wound, it had burned like fire.

"Eventually," she added, smiling up at him. It had to have just been his injury, but his lungs seemed to forget how to pump air for a moment. "Give it a moment."

Nathan frowned so deeply that he thought his mouth would fall off his face, but he waited. Sure enough, the pain began to dissipate after a long minute, filling his arm with a numb feeling that wasn't unpleasant.

"Told you," Serana said, sending him a knowing look.

He rolled his eyes as she began to wrap his arm with the rest of the bandage, doing it so carefully that it seemed like she'd done it a hundred times before. Maybe she had.

He had nowhere else to look but at her as she worked. A strand of dark hair had fallen in front of her face, and he had to wrestle the urge to tuck it behind her ear. He really should have known better than to feel things like that. Especially after his history.

No, he needed something to distract himself from the way the torchlight lit up her features. He needed to say _something_. But what?

Nathan opened his mouth once, shut it, then spoke. "Can you tell me more about your family?"

 _Very suave,_ a part of his brain whispered.

 _Shut it!_ another part exclaimed.

Serana paused in the middle of wrapping the cloth around his arm. She looked up at him quickly, then back down at his arm. "There's not really a whole lot to tell." She resumed her bandaging. "You've already seen my father's obsession. My mother's not a whole lot better, but you'll see that soon enough."

Nathan wasn't the best at reading facial expressions. Right now, her face seemed guarded, like she was trying to either shut him out or protect herself. However, he was _very_ good at reading voices. Hers sounded like it was pained. And…there was something else. An underlying brokenness, so faint that he might not have noticed it with anyone else. Yet for some reason, fate seemed to have decreed that he be hyper-aware of her and her emotions. It had only been a few weeks, yet he had already developed a sixth-sense where she was concerned.

"Were you close with them?" he asked, unconsciously leaning a bit closer, because this seemed like the sort of conversation to have with lowered voices. Especially considering where they were.

She tied off the bandage, but her hands lingered on his arm for a moment. He shivered involuntarily. She lowered her hands back down to her side as she spoke, avoiding his eye contact. "My father... no, not really. I did spend a lot of time with my mother, but she saw me more like a protege than a daughter."

Nathan lowered his arm, wincing at the dull throb of pain that shot through him. Luckily, it wasn't his sword arm. He was totally unprepared for when Serana looked up, meeting his eyes with a sudden curious intensity that made his stomach do a flip-flop.

"What about you? What were your parents like?" she asked, tilting her head at him.

He physically flinched. He couldn't help it. Her direct question brought back a flood of memories that he wasn't ready for—the most notable being a golden statue of Mara.

Nathan pushed the memory away as forcibly as he could. His fists clenched as he did, and he flinched harder at the sudden wave of pain that flowed through his left arm, originating from the bite. He grunted in pain, and his eyes twitched as he stared down at his shoes.

She touched his good arm to draw his attention back to her, for his nostrils were flared and he seemed to be clenching and unclenching his jaw. It would have been comical if she couldn't _feel_ the pain radiating from him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right," he said, though he still wasn't looking at her and his voice had gone hoarse. "We—my…" He sighed and cradled his injured arm to his chest. "My mother died when I was very young. I don't remember much of her, just a few things she told me. My father…" He scowled. "Well, let's just say that we didn't get along and leave it at that. It's probably best that we haven't seen each other in a while."

There was something in his voice. Something that sounded suspiciously like, " _I don't know what I'd do to him if we met again."_ She could feel his pain and his anger, as clearly as if it were her own, and she wondered when she had become so in-tune with his emotions.

When she looked back at his eyes, for she'd become distracted by the way his left hand was flexing open and closed, Nathan had a strange, far away look in his eyes, like he was seeing something in the distance. For a moment, he seemed like a completely different person. Older, somehow. Then it was gone, and he smiled weakly at her. "We're both better off this way."

"That makes sense," Serana replied without really thinking much about it.

She wasn't sure what made her do it. Maybe it was the pain in his eyes and his voice, pain that she could clearly relate to. Maybe it was the way her heart was turning over in her chest for him, or maybe it was the way he seemed to be hugging his arm to his chest, as if he were protecting himself from something. Regardless of the reason, she found herself lurching forward and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, as if she could somehow force the sadness out of him through willpower alone.

She felt Nathan tense for a moment, and briefly wondered if she had crossed some sort of line―after all, she hadn't really been hugged in years, and as a result she wasn't entirely sure what the protocol was. But after he hesitated, Nathan moved his arms and hugged her in return, just as tightly, even as he pressed his head against hers. They were nearly the same height, with her being just a little bit shorter, so he was able to rest his chin on the crook of her shoulder. He smelled nice, for someone who had just been in a fierce battle with the undead, far nicer than she probably did. The scent of juniper berries and pine washed over her, a strangely pleasing smell.

It was the first hug Serana had had in centuries, and she wouldn't have wanted it to be with anyone else.

Eventually, they pulled back, a little closer than before. She noticed that Nathan's ears were bright red, something that she had seen before but was never able to figure out. She wondered if her face was red as well.

They stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say―or if either of them even wanted to say anything.

"Let's…uh…" Serana eventually said, then cleared her throat. "Let's just keep going."

Nathan smiled without his teeth and brushed past her. She turned to follow him, and it didn't escape her that her eyes seemed to linger on him longer than they should have.

Somehow she knew that whatever had just happened was just the beginning.


	13. Chapter 13

**So normally I don't address reviews (i'm a _d_ ), but this one made a good point. JDLENL pointed out that vampires are dead, and therefore do not blush, have heartbeats, or breath. **

**But here's my justification for writing this way (because I _really_ don't want to rewrite any of this): In chapter four, Serana mentions that the Volkihar Vampires are distantly related to the Cyrodiil vampires, who appear like normal people when they feed regularly. In my mind (and therefore this story), that means that these specific vampires _can_ blush, because that's what it looks like for a normal person. I know it's not a complete answer, and I also know that I probably overly-responded to this review, but I _hate_ plot holes and things that don't make sense. So really, me saying this is more of a justification for me. I have no self-confidence.**

 **ANYWAY, please enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

"Stop!" Nathan suddenly exclaimed, lurching to a halt so suddenly that Serana almost bumped into him.

Something wasn't right. He'd felt like they were being watched ever since they'd left the dining hall, and that feeling had only grown. Now, his gut was screaming a warning at him.

They were standing in the dumping ground right underneath where the thralls were kept, and they'd already dispatched the two death hounds calling the dump their home. Two book shelves full of ruined books sat to either side of Nathan and Serana, and the whole place _reeked_ of blood and bone meal.

His magicka had barely started to regenerate, but luckily he had a potion to fix that. He dug it out of his pack quickly and chugged the contents of the blue bottle as fast as he could. As soon as he swallowed the last of it, he felt the rush of magicka returning to him.

He immediately reached out with his magical senses, and what he saw made him curse silently.

"What is it?" Serana asked. She clenched her elven dagger tightly in one hand, and a spell was readied in the other.

 _For the love of Talos…_ Nathan thought. He could hide himself no problem. Hiding himself _and_ Serana was going to be a bit more difficult. But he had lived in Skyrim long enough to become a quick thinker.

A constant string of expletives was running in his mind as he grabbed Serana and dragged her over to the wall, next to one of the bookshelves. He crouched down and took her with him—ignoring her exclamation of protest and confusion—and ignited an illusion spell in both hands. He quickly crouched down next to her, as close as he dared, and grasped her left hand with his right one, pulsing the Invisibility spell into her hand and into himself at the same time. With a soft _pop_ , they both turned invisible.

It wasn't a moment too soon. A split-second later, two people emerged into the small chamber, wearing fine clothes and carrying elven weapons.

Vingalmo tutted in disgust as he stepped into the room, and the lackey he had with him didn't look very pleased, either.

 _Mara's toenails,_ Nathan thought as soon as he saw them. This was not a good thing. Beside him—though he couldn't see her—he felt Serana stiffen.

"I assure you, my lord, they went this way!" the goon said. He was a Dunmer, but a petite one. In fact, his sword looked to be taller than he was. It was a miracle that the Dark Elf was able to carry it at all. His red hair and eyes seemed garish and ugly in the dim light.

Vingalmo's eyes scanned the dumping grounds—passing right over where Nathan and Serana were hidden—before turning to the Dunmer with withering contempt. "You _assured_ me that you would be able to follow them without difficulty, Dranus."

Dranus winced. "My lord—"

Vingalmo's face split into an ugly sneer. "That _half-breed_ is attempting to steal that which is _mine!_ You have failed."

Nathan grit his teeth, though it was only partly from anger. The strain of holding a spell for this long was enough to make any well-practiced mage sweat. But Nathan was a novice who was holding the Invisibility spell for two people. He felt like his magicka was burning him up from the inside out.

Dranus inclined his head apologetically to Vingalmo. "I am sorry, my lord. I thought—"

"Exactly!" Vingalmo exclaimed, his voice cracking like a whip. "You leave the _thinking_ and _planning_ to me, whelp. Now take us back to the surface. This place smells worse than Orthjolf."

The Dunmer sheathed his sword, head down, and turned around.

Nathan was tempted to drop his spell the moment that Vingalmo and Dranus disappeared from view. But he forced himself to give it a full ten count before releasing the spell. Almost immediately, his body slumped against the wall, totally exhausted.

"Ow," he moaned, without much volume, just in case.

"That arrogant milkdrinker," Serana exclaimed. Her voice was quiet but full of fury. Nathan turned to find her face twisted in rage—brow furrowed, mouth in a scowl, eyes blazing. "He—he—" She sounded so angry that it was like she couldn't get the words out.

But Nathan understood, because he was angry too. Vingalmo had called him a half-breed—which Nathan was used to—and he'd also referred to Serana as an _object_. Vingalmo viewed her as some kind of _thing_ to use for his succession. As soon as Nathan remembered, his anger allowed him to sit up.

He'd never drained his magicka so quickly before. When he was blind, he'd never used spells. If he had run out of magicka, he would have run out of his ability to see. Using magical sight burned the smallest amount of magicka, and at the end of a day, he never came close to exhausting his magical reserves. But what he'd just done…it left him physically and magically drained.

Serana seemed to forget her anger when she saw the state that he was in. Sweat plastered his hair to his scalp and forehead, and he was shaking just slightly. He was still clenching her hand rather tightly, but neither of them said anything about it. Nathan wasn't sure if she was just trying to keep him steady or if it was something else, but she squeezed it twice. He was sure that his heart had tripped and fallen into his stomach.

"That was amazing, Nathan," she said in a hushed voice. She'd never seen someone use magic like that before. She'd never even heard of projecting an Invisibility spell onto another person.

He smiled at her, genuinely but tiredly. "Thanks."

She stood, and helped him to his feet as well. She was extremely aware of the fact that they were still holding hands, but a moment later, it became a very good thing.

This time, she heard it before he did. Footsteps.

She immediately dragged Nathan with her, behind the bookshelf. It was crowded back there, and they had to squeeze closely together to avoid detection. Nathan's chin was pressed uncomfortably into her shoulder, and his knee dug into her back. A cobweb was in her face. They froze as a second pair of footsteps arrived.

"You're an idiot."

Serana tensed at the sound of the heavily accented Nord voice. Orthjolf. Was every member of the court with them in the undercroft?

"Sire," another, squeakier voice said. "I am _positive_ that they are down here somewhere."

"I can't believe I let you fool me into thinking that the half-breed would be so easily followed, Gilli," Orthjolf fumed.

Behind her, Serana felt Nathan stiffen at the term. In her ear, his breath seemed impossibly loud.

"But I saw Lord Harkon's daughter—"

There was a loud _thud!_ and the bookshelf in front of Nathan and Serana shook dangerously, as if someone had been pinned there. She bit her tongue to keep herself from crying out in shock.

"He is _not_ a lord!" Orthjolf growled, his voice low and menacing. " _I_ am! That throne deserves to be _mine!_ Along with the wench he calls his daughter!"

Instantly, caustic anger roiled through Serana's veins at Orthjolf's words. In that moment, the only thing she wanted to do was jump up from behind the bookshelf and spear him on the end of her dagger or an ice spike. She felt her muscles tense to do it, but then Nathan's arms wrapped tightly around her, stopping her from moving. One arm wrapped around her stomach, and his other hand covered her mouth, as if he knew that she wanted to scream a vast number of insults at Orthjolf. She resisted for but a moment before relenting. It would not be good to kill Orthjolf…not now.

"I'm…sorry…sire," the pipsqueak voice—Gilli?—said. "Should we…try again?"

The bookshelf lurched again as the person held against it was released.

"Yes," Orthjolf said with a sigh. "The next time the half-breed leaves, I'll have his head."

More footsteps. After a moment, Serana knew that Orthjolf and his lackey had left. But they had to wait a little bit longer, just in case they decided to come back. As the anger faded, she realized that Nathan's arms were still wrapped around her. What came as a surprise, however, was that she didn't mind it, and that a nice warm feeling had spread through her body as well.

As a result, she stayed put a little longer than was necessary. But at least one of them was thinking straight, and Nathan removed his arms and stood clumsily after a moment. Serana was both disappointed and frustrated at her disappointment.

She stood after a moment as well, uttering a soft curse as she stubbed her toe on the corner of the bookshelf.

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. This time, the back of his neck had turned red as well as his ears. She attributed it to the shakiness that was still in his hands from using so much of his magicka. "Uhm. Let's get…uh, going."

Serana nodded. It seemed that there were a lot of things that needed to be discovered on their adventure…the least of which was not the strange warm feeling growing in her chest.


	14. Chapter 14

Nathan yanked down as hard as he could on the candlestick, and staggered backward when the small handle turned down. Almost immediately, a rumbling filled the tower, and the fireplace disappeared.

They had reached the top (or, at least, the fake top) of the ruined tower in only a few hours. In that time, they'd encountered numerous skeletons that were tougher than their brethren on the docks. Oh, and gargoyles. After a crude joke about Valerica's "thing" for magical constructs, and a room _full_ of six of the stone beasts, they'd finally reached the end of the tower.

The room they stood in seemed to be some kind of…factory for gargoyles. But there was a pair of coffins and a fireplace that looked rather comfortable. At Serana's prodding, they'd looked around. Since Nathan was an avid reader, he figured that the candlesticks next to the fireplace seemed a little obvious. That is, until he tugged on one and a whole new passage opened up.

"Leave it to my mother," Serana said with a sigh. "Always smarter than I gave her credit for."

Unlike Nathan (who had cobwebs in his hair and whose arm was still bandaged), Serana seemed to have fared better. Her clothes were torn in a few places, but her hair was still neat and her golden-amber eyes were fresh.

However, there was something else in her speech. Something that, even if Nathan hadn't known her so well by now, he would have recognized, because he felt it in himself. She'd had it in her eyes since they'd first entered the undercroft, and since she'd talked about her mother, and since he'd told her about his. They'd been so busy with trying to stay alive that he hadn't had a chance to ask her yet, but now he did.

"You talk about being lonely a lot," Nathan said, cleaning his bloodied sword on the back of his leg. He hadn't had a chance to do so yet. As he sheathed it, he looked up at her. This time, her expression was not shocked, like he expected it to be. Instead, it was…ponderous. She was thinking. That was an improvement from all the other times that he'd asked her questions, where she'd been surprised he was asking her questions.

"Well," she eventually said, stepping over the corpse of a rather large gargoyle, "growing up the way I did, you get used to it."

Nathan grabbed a torch from off the wall and stepped into the tunnel that had just opened up. It appeared to lead into a narrow, spiraling staircase that led upward. He felt Serana following him, and decided to ask another question while he still had the courage. "Do you still feel that way?"

It was an innocent enough question. But when he verbalized it, the inquiry instantly felt more personal and intimate than it was. Or was supposed to be. Or…great. Now he'd given himself a headache. And his blasted ears were heating up again.

"Er…" Serana replied. He turned to look at her, noticing the frown on her face. "A little bit." She looked away. "That's…one of the reasons I wanted to come with you."

Now, why did his heart do a funny little jig in his chest, like it had just taken flight? It must be the dust. Yes, the dust in the dark hallway made his heart skip a beat. It was an answer that any Restoration mage would have scoffed at, but it made Nathan relax a bit. A grin even spread across his face at her words, and warmth bloomed in his stomach.

Serana cleared her throat, and he turned fully to face her. He failed to hide the smile on his face. "But…what about you?"

The question took him so by surprise that, even though he knew what she meant, he found himself asking, "What _about_ me?"

She shrugged, though she still avoided eye contact. "Do you get lonely? Are there…people in your life?" She cleared her throat awkwardly.

Luckily, she didn't see the way he grimaced at the question. Did he have people in his life? Not really. Sure, he'd made a few friends here and there—a few people from the Thieves Guild and the Greybeards came to mind—but they were hardly "in his life." In fact, he hadn't seen most of them in months. Everyone else either worshipped the Dragonborn—which wasn't friendship—or despised him because of his race. Nevermind the fact that he had single handedly saved the world from Alduin _and_ Miraak. He'd made friends in Solstheim, but that place was far away, and most of those friends were dead anyway.

"I try not to rely on others," Nathan told her in a voice that was much more flat than he intended. That much, at least, was true.

Now she was looking right at him. She looked concerned, and he wondered what he'd said wrong. "Does it bother you that I'm here?"

 _Ah._ That's _what I said._

He shook his head and shot her a reassuring smile. "No. I'm glad you're with me." That, too, was true. He'd had a few companions, but none of them had been quite like her. None of them had been able to relate to him like she could.

Serana returned the smile, and to him, it lit up the dark hallway more than his torch ever could. _That's_ what people had meant by a "bright smile." "Me too."

Nathan couldn't help it. He grinned even wider than before. Despite his brain telling him that it was a bad idea, he couldn't help but feel like he was floating a little bit.

She was the first to snap out of it. "Anyway, this is all very touching, but don't we have some more important things to worry about right now?"

 _You're such an idiot,_ Nathan's brain whispered to him.

 _Yeah, shut it,_ his heart hummed back.

"Ladies first, Castle," he told her, stepping aside and gesturing toward the tunnel gallantly.

She rolled her eyes as she walked past him. "It would be my pleasure, Icebrain."

The following climb was definitely the easiest part of their journey, but it still left both of them panting for breath. A couple hundred steps straight up would do that to anyone ( _At least it's not the path up to High Hrothgar,_ Nathan found himself thinking). When Serana finally pushed open a wooden door at the top of the tower, huffing and puffing, it was a massive relief. However, both sets of jaws hit the floor when they saw what awaited them beyond.

The room that they had entered was massive, and had two levels. The first level was full of bookshelves and alchemical ingredients, along with a long table full of bones. The second level looked relatively similar, with a balcony that abruptly dropped off in the center without a railing. The centerpiece, however, seemed to be a strange… _something._

It was a series of circles, like steps leading into nowhere. It almost looked like a fountain would fit in the center, and Nathan was reminded of the fountain of blood that Harkon kept in his chapel.

Serana spoke first. "Look at this place!" she exclaimed. "This has to be it!"

Nathan extinguished his torch with a small frost spell and tossed the hunk of wood aside. In this strange…laboratory, there was enough natural light filtering in from a hole in the roof to see by. "Some kind of lab?" he asked.

She nodded. "I knew she was deep into necromancy. I mean, she taught me everything I know. But I had no idea she had a setup like this."

They walked around the room, investigating. Upon closer inspection, the table of bones had a human skull on it—which Nathan said nothing about—and it even had dragon bones, which he examined more closely. They appeared to be incredibly old, and he wondered where Valerica had even gotten them in the first place, and what possible use they could have in alchemy.

"Look at all this," Serana breathed, sidling up next to him. "She must have spent years gathering these components."

"Dragon bone is incredibly rare _now_ ," Nathan said, prodding the bone in question with a finger. "Most people don't even know what to do with it. I know it can be made into weapons, but alchemy? Strange."

They shared a look, and he knew that they were thinking the same thing. The _real_ question was what the hell the strange circle was.

"So what even _is_ this thing?" Serana asked, as they turned to the strange series of steps in the center of the room.

"Not a clue," Nathan replied, peering at it. Even with his magical sight, he couldn't make sense of it. It seemed to be…nothing, but that couldn't be right.

"Well, it's obviously...something."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Serana. Well done."

She glared at him. "Let's take a look around, then. There has to be something here that tells us where she's gone."

"Like what?" he asked. All he saw were books and ingredients. Unless Valerica had carved her map location onto the shards of a shattered soul crystal, he didn't see how they could possibly find her.

Serana seemed to think for a moment. "My mother was _meticulous_ about her research. If we can find her notes, there might be some hints in there."

Nathan nodded, and his eyes fell on the numerous bookshelves in the corner. "Split up?"

She frowned. "Split up."

— **||||||||||||||—**

Guy skipped a rock lazily across the water. The sun was starting to rise, though he didn't hurry to ready his boat for customers. Business had been slow lately.

"'Become a boatman,'" he muttered, leaning back against his sail. "'Make your own money. It'll be fun, Helmann.' Pssh, whatever."

Ever since he'd taken Serana and Nathan back and forth to Winterhold and Solitude, business had been slow. The massive amount of septims that Nathan had given Guy were beginning to run out (he did need to eat, after all), and he needed some customers. Badly. Unfortunately, it looked like it would be another few hours before anyone even showed up to the docks. Business usually came around noon.

Or so he thought. Just as he started to close his eyes to take a brief nap, somebody started to shout.

"Stop! Thief!"

Guy cracked an eye open, only half-interested. Down on the docks, larceny was rare, but it did still happen sometimes. Especially in the early morning, and especially on a slow day. Like right now.

He sat up straight in his boat, and his green eyes zeroed in on a small chase taking place at the top of the docks. A man in brown leather—typical Thieves Guild armor—was dashing down the steps, a large sack in hand. No less than four Haafingar guards were in hot pursuit, firing steel arrows whenever they could. Whoever the thief was, he obviously wasn't a very good one. He was already bleeding from a deep gash in his side. It was a matter of _when_ , not _if_ , he fell.

He made it about halfway down the dock before an arrow found his heart. With a strangled yelp, the thief fell to the ground, and his sack of valuables spilled open, knocking about half of the contents into the ocean below.

Guy looked away as the guards began to loot the thief's body (a guard's salary was fairly low, so who could blame them?). Guy had never been one for violence, and the sight of blood sickened him. He could only hope that a paying customer came by soon, so that he could get away from this place before it started to stink of death. Maybe Morthal needed a boatman? The city was half-submerged in the swamp, so the residents probably wouldn't mind. It would be a pain to drag his sailboat down there, however.

His thoughts were interrupted when something thudded into the side of his boat. Curious, he leaned over to see what it was. Sometimes a coin pouch would fall out of a nobleman's pocket and into the water.

Alas, the object in question didn't actually appear to be anything valuable. It was only a strange orb that looked like it might have once been some nobleman's bedpost. It was silver in color and almost looked like a mockery of a gemstone—it had several grooves and indents that gave it a strange, hexagonal shape. It was likely that it had fallen out of the thief's pack and floated in the water, over to him. His interest peaked, he reached his hand into the water and grabbed the strange orb.

Immediately, it was like someone had shined a ball of magelight directly in his face. The world went white, and he felt like his mind was burning in the intense heat that buffeted him.

A voice began to speak without warning, almost shouting in his ear.

" _A new hand touches the beacon!"_ it said. The voice was distinctly feminine, and sounded almost condescending. " _Listen! Hear me and obey!"_

Guy couldn't see, but he felt his body scramble backwards, hitting the edge of his boat rather painfully. "Wh-what's happening? Who are you?"

The voice didn't sigh, but he imagined that it did. " _I,"_ it said, " _am Meridia, and you shall do as I command. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that_ you _will destroy. Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath."_ The voice hesitated. " _And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light."_

Just like that, the light was gone, and Guy was left panting in the bottom of his boat, clutching the strange beacon to his chest like it was a flawless diamond. He only had one thought in his head.

 _I need to get some help._

* * *

 **Guy is my son and you will have to pry his character from my cold dead hands. That is all.**


	15. Chapter 15

One of the downsides of eyesight? You could go cross-eyed after reading too many books. In a way, Serana almost envied Nathan, who was flaunting his ability to read two books at once with Braille. Show-off.

She smiled to herself as she closed another book and tossed it on the "read" pile. They hadn't found any trace of a regular notebook or journal, and she'd remembered how paranoid her mother had been. The vampiress had probably hidden her journal inside another book.

It had been at least an hour or two, but despite that they'd made surprisingly good progress. It was due, in part, to how fast Nathan could skim a book, and the fact that he could read two at once.

Serana, on the other hand, had given herself a headache from flipping through so many books. Since she was a fast reader, that was almost as much as Nathan. She was beginning to think that they'd never find her mother's research journal—and that filled her with fear.

The only reason Serana was interested in going after the Elder Scrolls was to make sure that no one else could pursue the prophecy. At least, that was what she had told herself thus far. But faced with the idea that she might come face to face with her mother again, a great many emotions were bubbling up in her chest. Anger and worry were the two most prevalent.

"Got it!" Nathan suddenly exclaimed, pushing all other thoughts from Serana's mind.

She looked over to find him holding a small red journal in his hands, flipping through some of the pages (which he had translated to Braille). A large, hollowed out book sat at his feet.

A wave of new energy flowed through Serana. "You did?" She was at his side in a blink, but she didn't remember crossing the room. "Let me see."

He quickly converted the journal back to normal and handed it to her, letting her skim it for a moment before speaking. "It mentions the Soul Cairn."

She sighed as she turned the page. Most people had no idea what the Soul Cairn was, unless they were well-versed in conjuration or necromancy. She opened her mouth to explain what it was, but Nathan spoke first.

"That's a theory, isn't it? That instead of disappearing, souls head to the 'Soul Cairn.' Don't necromancers do that, as a way to gain powerful magical abilities?"

Serana felt her jaw drop. She looked up at him to find that his glowing eyes were lit up with a strange kind of excitement, the same kind he'd shown when they were going over vampiric history together. How in the name of the Divines could Nathan have known about the Soul Cairn?

He must have noticed her baffled look. He grinned as he told her, "One of the few classes that the College of Winterhold let me attend was Conjuration. Nobody likes Phinis Gestor much, so they made him teach me." His grin took on an almost gloating light. "I aced the class just to show those arrogant know-it-alls the error of their ways." He pointed at the words _Soul Cairn_ in Valerica's journal. "That was something that we covered in class."

Huh. Apparently, magical education had become a lot more advanced while she was gone. Who would have thought?

"Urm…yeah," Serana said, a little put off by how his excitement was so contagious. "My mother spent a lot of time trying to contact the powerful beings who rule the Soul Cairn directly, to travel there herself."

Nathan nodded determinedly. "If she made it there, we'll find her."

She turned back to the journal to resume her reading. "That circle in the center of the room is definitely some type of portal. If I'm reading this right," she said as she turned the page, "there's a formula here that should give us safe passage into the Soul Cairn."

"What do we need?" he asked, looking positively ecstatic to be traveling to one of the places from his studies. It was completely endearing. Not that she'd ever admit that.

Serana forced herself to refocus on the journal, reading off the ingredients. "A handful of soul gem shards, some finely-ground bone meal, a good bit of purified void salts…" She cursed as her eyes read the final line of the ingredients list. Sometimes paranoia was a good thing. Other times, it was downright annoying.

"What's wrong?" Nathan said, trying to catch a look at the journal, moving even closer to her as a result.

She rubbed her face exasperatedly with one hand. "We're also going to need a sample of her blood." She cursed again, more vehemently. "Which…if we could _get_ that, we wouldn't even be trying to _do_ this in the first place."

He frowned, like he did when he was deep in thought. After a long moment, he looked back at her and said, "You share her blood."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. It wasn't a terrible idea, actually. He really was brilliant, wasn't he? With his… _stupid_ (fascinating) bright eyes, and his _annoying_ (wonderful) grin.

Of course, he could never know her true thoughts, or she'd never hear the end of it, so she settled for saying, "Not bad. For a novice alchemist." She looked back down at her mother's journal. "We'd better hope that's good enough. Mistakes with these kind of portals can be…gruesome."

Serana shut the journal, but was interrupted by Nathan.

"How did you know I was a novice alchemist?" he asked. His mouth seemed to be in danger of splitting into another grin. Not that Serana was watching it, of course.

She rolled her eyes. " _Please._ You _reek_ of alchemical ignorance. Literally. You _do_ know that the gourd you've been carrying around for _days_ has no use, right?"

He frowned. "Well, now I do," he muttered.

She couldn't help chuckling a little bit, but they had a job to do. "Anyway, enough of that. Let's get started."

— **|||||||||||||||—**

By the end of an hour, Nathan was really wishing that he wasn't so alchemically "ignorant." The soul gem shards he found without incident—he wasn't an _absolute_ idiot, after all. And he figured that the finely ground bone meal would be on the table with the bones. No, the real challenge was finding the purified void salts.

"How many bowls of void salts can you _have_ in a laboratory?" Nathan muttered unhappily to himself, scouring yet another shelf for anything that resembled the black grains of salt he was looking for. He'd tried using his magical sight to search for the salts, but there were so many alchemical ingredients in the room—many of which were magical—that he couldn't see effectively. Who knew that their great conquest to stop Harkon would involve so many goose chases? It was absolutely maddening.

He was currently on the second level of the laboratory, searching through the shelves with a ball of magical light floating over his shoulder. It was just his luck that the small portion of the lab was darker than the rest, since the sun in the sky (the beams of which stung against his skin) didn't reach that far. But the only thing he'd found thus far was a bunch of bone meal and frost salts.

"Any luck?" Serana called over from the other side of the room. She was searching directly by the alchemy station, which had a surprising amount of ingredients stashed around it.

"Not yet," Nathan replied. He tried to move a wooden bowl of bone meal out of the way, but the side of the container brushed up against a ceramic one next to it. He cursed as both started to fall. He snatched the ceramic bowl right as it was about to topple off the shelf, but the one full of bone meal clattered to the ground, spilling the white powder all over his black boots.

"Great," he muttered, shaking off the dust. Just what every thief needed: something to make them stand out in the darkness. He'd have to clean his boots more thoroughly later. Bone meal was harder to clean out of clothing than troll fat.

"What was that?" Serana asked.

"Nothing," Nathan said with another muttered expletive. "I just knocked over some bone meal and some—" He peered into the ceramic bowl he'd nearly sent to the ground, then frowned. There appeared to be void salts inside (what an absolute _shocker!)_ , but a very small amount, far less than the bone meal Nathan had just spilled. Yet there was something…odd about the void salts. They seemed darker than the other samples that he had recovered, and the grains seemed to be smaller; finer, almost.

"Serana?" he asked, trying not to get his hopes up. "Come take a look at this."

"Did you find it?" she asked, crossing the room breathlessly.

Nathan held up the ceramic bowl to her as she approached, and she squinted at it as she came to a stop next to him. It was almost amusing to watch her eyes analytically evaluate the particles within. Fascinating, but amusing.

After a moment, she clutched his good arm excitedly. In his chest, his heart skipped one of its designated beats and started chasing butterflies instead. "Nathan, you found it!"

He couldn't resist a jibe. "Who's alchemically ignorant now, Castle?"

Just as he suspected: another eye roll. She took the bowl from him and didn't dignify him with a response. Nonetheless, he grinned.

He followed her to a large bowl overlooking the circles below. That was presumably the reason there wasn't a railing there; to allow whoever opened the portal to jump into Oblivion. They'd already filled the bowl with the other ingredients. All they had to do now was add the void salts and a bit of Serana's blood, and they were home free. Or…as home free as one could be when heading into the realm of the daedra.

Serana scraped the contents of the ceramic bowl into the larger one, then tossed the small one aside. She had a look of intense consternation on her face as she mixed the particles together, if Nathan was getting better at reading facial expressions. Either that, or she was constipated. He decided it was the former.

He was going to ask her if she was all right, but she spoke first, dusting off her hands and turning to him, that look still on her face. "Then I guess the rest is up to me. Are you ready to go? I'm not entirely sure what this thing is going to do when I add my blood."

He cocked his head at her. They'd just fought their way through a set of ruins and hordes of undead. She had to be exhausted, yet she was willing to dive into Oblivion to go after her mother. Then again, he supposed he couldn't blame her. His mother had died when he was young, so his memories were limited, but he would do the same thing, given the chance.

"Can I ask you something first?" Nathan said, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Of course," Serana replied. Her mouth had a small smile on it. "What is it?"

He hesitated a moment before proceeding. "What will you do if we find your mother?"

Her smile turned into a frown. She had that surprised look in her eyes again, like she was surprised he was asking. But it faded after a moment as she considered the question. When she spoke, it was with a sense of uncertainty. "I've…been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle." She crossed her arms, and her frown deepened. "She was so _sure_ of what we did to my father, I couldn't help but go along with her. I never…I never thought of the cost."

Neither had Nathan. He had entered into the agreement of vampirism for eyesight. Before he'd the prophecy, he thought it had been worth it. But now, the world was in danger again, and he couldn't help but feel like it was his fault, somehow. Once again, he'd made a selfish decision, and others had paid the price.

But he couldn't entertain those thoughts at the moment. Serana needed someone to talk to, and he was determined to make sure that she could always rely on him if she needed to. He didn't really have much experience with mothers. But, drawing on the experiences he'd had with his own, and from what he'd heard of Valerica so far, he decided to make an inference. "It…sounds like she did everything for your sake."

Now it was her turn to cock her head at him, as if she hadn't considered the possibility before now. "Possibly." She sighed. " I guess even a vampire mother is still a mother." Serana smiled then, a little ruefully. But it quickly turned back into a frown. "She worried about me. About all of us. But she wanted to get me as far away from my father as possible before he really went over the edge."

 _You mean he hasn't already?_ Nathan wanted to ask, but figured it wasn't prudent. Instead, he laid a hand on her shoulder, gave it a comforting squeeze, and said, "We won't know until we find her."

Unexpectedly, Serana smiled. The sight sent his heart into overdrive. He _really_ needed to get that under control. "Yes…yes, you're right. I'm sorry." She was still smiling. "I just didn't expect anyone to care how I felt about her." Once more, she laid a hand over the one he had on her shoulder and squeezed it in turn. "Thank you."

For the millionth time, Nathan found himself staring helplessly at her. He couldn't help it; she was just so captivating. She was the most fascinating person he'd ever met; he couldn't help but admire her.

It was Serana who snapped out of it first, lowering her hand from his and turning back to the bowl of ingredients. She cleared her throat, and then said, "Are we ready then?"

He blinked, then adjusted the strap on his sheath and the pack hanging around his shoulders. Everything he needed was with him. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"Okay," she replied. "Here goes." Wincing, she held her left hand over the bowl and dragged her elven dagger across her palm. Blood spilled out of her hand and into the bowl.

Immediately, the tower began to rumble—a deep, low sound that made Nathan's back teeth vibrate. Below them, the stone circle began to shake violently, so much so that they both had to grab the side of the balcony's railings to keep from tumbling over. As he watched, the circle began to unravel itself, glowing a deep, ugly purple. He blinked, and an instant later, a deep, dark abyss formed beneath the steps that had formed.

Yep. Definitely a portal of some kind.

"By the blood of my ancestors…" Serana gasped, once the rumbling had stopped. "She actually did it. She created a portal to the Soul Cairn! Incredible!"

 _If only those College flunkies could see me now,_ Nathan thought, not caring that his jaw had dropped to the floor as he stood up straight to examine the portal. _They'd be peeing themselves right now, then strangling me_. The thought was amusing.

"Ready?" Nathan asked, hand on the pommel of his sword.

"As I'll ever be," Serana replied, healing the cut in her hand. "It's not every day you get to head into a tiny sliver of Oblivion."

"You want to go first?" he asked her with a grin, nodding at the swirling portal below them. "I may be new to this whole 'eyesight' thing, but even _I_ can see that you're dying to step down there."

Serana stared at him for a moment before her face unexpectedly split into a smile. She shook her head, looking down at her feet as she chuckled. "You're an idiot, Nathan Scarlett."

He couldn't help but laugh along with her, the smile in his cheeks making it feel like his face would crack open. "What did I say? I was being honest!"

She was still laughing at him, but when she turned her smile on him, there was something incredibly genuine in her eyes. He liked seeing her like this; a smile lit up her face in all the right ways, and took some of the haggardness from her eyes. She deserved to be happy, and not just for a few moments.

"You're an idiot," she said, taking a step closer, still wearing that wonderful smile, "if you think that I don't want to step into the Soul Cairn with my friend at my side."

 _Ba-dump_ , said Nathan's heart. He knew he was blushing fully now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care even as his smile spread as wide as it possibly could, so much so that it was almost painful. Feeling extraordinarily brave as he looked at her, Nathan held out a hand.

"Together, then?" he asked, meeting her eyes with all the sincerity he could muster. She deserved to see every ounce of it.

She looked at his hand for less than a second before she fit her palm with his, intertwining their fingers.

"Together," she told him, eyes shining.

Nathan sent her one last smile, took a deep breath, and then together they stepped into the Soul Cairn, hand-in-hand.


	16. Chapter 16

In his head, Nathan imagined himself stepping into the Soul Cairn like a determined, mighty warrior. It was, after all, the stuff of legends—the Dragonborn descending into Oblivion to fight off some magical creatures and find some poor person trapped there. In the stories, they would envision him stepping into the Soul Cairn rather heroically.

That's…not what happened, though.

If he was being honest with himself, Nathan was rather nervous. He'd only done something like this a few times before, and that had been through Hermaeus Mora's black books. He'd never actually, _physically_ gone into Oblivion.

…and that was why he tripped.

He had barely gone four steps into the Soul Cairn before his boot caught on the circular stone steps. He had just enough time to think, _for the love of Mara's nostrils,_ before his hand was ripped from Serana's and he went tumbling down the steps like a _complete_ moron.

When he finally landed at the bottom of the steps in a heap, aching all over, he caught the sound of laughter from up above. He looked up to see Serana descending the steps, clutching her stomach as she laughed loudly. When she reached the last step, he could see tears in her eyes as she guffawed.

He knew that they probably should have been quiet, but he couldn't resist laughing as well. After a moment, his guffaw joined hers, loud and insistent and wonderful. He hadn't laughed— _actually_ laughed—in a long time. It felt long overdue, and he suspected that she hadn't had enough humor in her life, either.

So they sat there, at the bottom of the steps into hell, and _laughed._ Together. It felt nice—probably nicer than it should have, for someone like Nathan who should have known better. But he couldn't help it.

Eventually, their laughter stuttered to a stop, though the grins on their faces lingered. Now that Nathan's mind was clearer, he looked around the place he had fallen into.

The Soul Cairn was…well, _bleak_ was the only word to describe it. The landscape was flat, with only a flew dead looking plants and strange, small husks furnishing it. The sky overhead was the worst part. It was a dark purple, with dark clouds and large lightning strikes. There was a strange, dark void in the middle of it, like someone had forgotten to finish a hellish painting. In the distance, he could see a few dark buildings.

"Well," he said after a moment, "this is a nice place. I can see why your mother would want to settle down here."

Serana rolled her eyes so hard that he thought they might fall out of her head. "Come on, Icebrain," she said as she stood. "We've got work to do."

— **||||||||||||||||—**

Their walk through the Soul Cairn was…not pleasant.

At every corner, strange Bonemen appeared out of the ground, tougher than the skeletons in Tamriel. Oh, and Mistmen as well, wielding spells and bows. And then there were the blasted Wrathmen, who carried large axes and greatswords made out of dragonbone, same as Nathan's sword. It seemed that every step and every breath in the Soul Cairn was going to be a battle. They only knew what to call the strange things because of a strange book they found, titled _The Book of Life and Service._

And that was before they saw the massive castle in the center of the place. It rivaled the size of Castle Volkihar, though its spires seemed to be destroyed, and just…floating in the middle of the sky, suspended in the strange purple light that Serana was beginning to get sick of. There was also a strange, bright pink barrier surrounding it. Keeping the creatures out…or keeping someone else in? Either way, it was a good place to start searching for her mother.

Unfortunately, both Nathan and Serana were starting to pay the price for their haste. The first clue should have been Nathan's _hilarious_ tumble down the steps leading into the hellscape. After that, everything started to go downhill. They got lost more than once—which was saying something, considering that their main landmark was _gigantic_ —and were taking more and more hits from the creatures that called the Soul Cairn home.

"We need to stop," Nathan said after a few more hours of this. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Like her, he looked a little worse for wear. His armor looked like it was in need of repair, and his boots, miraculously, still had bone meal on them. Sweat coated his face, and he had bags under his eyes.

Still, Serana was glad that he had asked first. She was feeling pretty haggard herself. She had a few scratches that she hadn't had time to heal, and her head was pounding with exhaustion. Vampires could go a longer time without sleeping, but even they needed to be able to rest.

"Is there anywhere to make camp?" she asked, looking around. The landscape was as barren as ever.

Nathan adjusted one of the straps on his pack, looking around. Eventually, he pointed at something in the distance. If Serana squinted hard enough, she thought she could make out a small dark shape. It almost looked like a baby version of the tall towers dotting the landscape―most likely some sort of mausoleum. "That looks good enough for me. What about you?"

She couldn't see it that well, but anything that got her out of the open and into a shelter was a welcome sight. "Let's go."

And so they trudged off. Luckily, they didn't come across any more of the Soul Cairn's undead, otherwise Serana might have screamed in frustration. However, there were plenty of the strange plant-like growths that crunched underfoot. They'd taken to calling the pale, horn shaped plants "soul husks," because…well, she was really too tired to give a reason at the moment.

When they finally reached the small building, it was less than glamorous. The whole thing was maybe a yard and a half wide and twice as long. It, like all the structures in the Soul Cairn, was crafted out of dark stone, and looked thoroughly unwelcoming. Yet it was still better than attempting to sleep out in the open.

"Too small to make a fire," Nathan commented, seemingly analyzing the small shelter like he'd done it a thousand times before. "Only one exit." He frowned. "I don't like this."

It was true. There were three walls that were closed off, giving the small shelter a darker internal light. The only entrance was through some steel bars that looked like they'd been ripped off by a beast of massive strength. Cheery place, really.

"Would you rather sleep out in the open?" Serana pointedly asked. All she wanted was to sleep. Even the complicated emotions regarding her partner would not stop her from that.

Nathan sighed and rubbed his face. "I suppose not." Hesitantly, he stepped inside, and Serana followed.

The place smelled worse on the inside; like something had spit up slugs. The ground was covered in dust too, and since this was Oblivion, technically, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what made up the dust bunnies in this dimension.

Luckily, Nathan had a solution. He plopped down his pack on a small stone ledge that looked like it might have once been a bench and started rifling through it. He pulled out two blankets—one large, one small—and a small, glowing red stone that looked like the strangest jewel Serana had ever seen. She didn't get a good look at it before he pulled out a dark green shirt and lazily threw it over the stone.

"Where is it, where is it…?" he muttered, pulling out random things and putting them on the other side of his pack. She caught sight of the useless gourd she'd mentioned before, two whole goat cheese wheels, a loaf of bread, cooked venison, a couple silver rings, a cracked flute, and a _fork_ before Nathan finally pulled out a small, purple book. She saw the symbol for the house of Conjuration on the front before he flipped it open and started reading Braille.

She couldn't help the next question that popped out of her mouth. "How can you possibly fit all those things in that small pack?"

Nathan chuckled and looked up at her, though his finger was still running across the pages of his conjuration spell book. "My pack is enchanted. Took me quite a few tries to get the blasted thing to hold an enchantment, but I managed it. Now it holds everything I need." He frowned. "As long as I don't haul around a bunch of heavy stuff. Stupid thing nearly crushed me once."

For some reason, Serana had an image of Nathan attempting to crawl, over-encumbered by the weight of the tiny bag on his back. It nearly had her in tears again. He certainly made her laugh, that was for sure.

"There we go," he said, as the spell book collapsed into dust. He wiped his hands on the front of his armor and started stuffing things back into his bag, leaving out the blankets, the shirt, some of the food, and the strange stone.

"Right!" Nathan exclaimed, grabbing the bizarre red stone that looked like the heart of some strange beast. "I'm going to set up a guard for the night. Or day. Or…whatever it is right now."

Curious, Serana watched as he stepped outside the stone shelter, walked about two yards out, and set the stone on the ground. He crouched down by it, and held a hand glowing with a pale yellow light over the rock. She watched as the dust and dirt seemed to stir at his command, swirling around the jewel and forming a sort of…shell around it. Then the dust began to grow, taking on the shape of an atronach.

Her eyes widened as Nathan stepped back to admire his handiwork. The thing he had created sort of resembled a storm atronach, though made of dirt. Or maybe…ash?

"Ash Guardian," Nathan proclaimed proudly, turning back to the shelter. "A friend gave me that spell tome once. Never really had occasion to use it until now."

She nodded mutely. It seemed that her friend was a lot more…savvy that she'd originally thought. And she'd already thought he was incredibly intelligent.

They spent the next couple of minutes setting up their shelter, spreading the large blanket over the dust-covered ground and making sure that the food was still good to eat. The Ash Guardian watched it all, which sort of unnerved Serana.

"Well," Nathan said when they were finished, frowning down at their small shelter, "It's not bad. Not great, either."

"Do you go camping a lot?" Serana asked, sitting down on the blanket and stretching, her back pressed against the wall.

He snorted as he sat down across from her, ripping off a small piece of the loaf of bread. "You could say that. I mean, I have a house, but I mostly just use it for storage. It's a lot more…interesting to sleep outside a city's walls at nights." He snorted. "Besides, if I sleep in a city, I'm convinced I'd either end up with a knife at my throat in the morning or some sort of fan knocking down my door."

"Fan?" Serana asked, cocking her head at him. He hadn't mentioned anything about being famous.

Nathan's eyes widened, as if he had said something wrong, then his hand flew to the back of his neck, scratching the skin there almost nervously.

"Uh…yeah!" he said. "Um…I've done a couple things that I guess could be considered heroic, and there are always people who idolize whoever they view as a hero."

She raised a single eyebrow at him but said nothing. Instead, she reached for the loaf of bread and took a small piece of it as well. Vampires didn't really need to eat, though they did get hungry. She chewed on the piece of bread idly.

Nathan ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further than usual. He glanced out at the Ash Guardian. "Do you think anything else lives here?"

Serana's eyebrow creeped higher on her forehead. "Look at this place. Do you think anything would _want_ to live here?" Most of the souls they had passed were lamenting the fact that they had been sent to the Soul Cairn. Serana pitied them. "The only things that can survive here are the Ideal Masters, the undead and the souls themselves." She frowned. "Well, if you want to call that 'living.'"

They fell into a sort of tired silence after that. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, though she made no real effort to sleep. In truth, despite her exhaustion, the Soul Cairn was just too…wrong. Everything about the place seemed to set her on edge. It was like someone was constantly playing the wrong note on that cracked flute Nathan had in his pack.

"Are you sure Valerica has the Elder Scroll?" Nathan asked after a few more minutes of this.

Serana cracked open one eye to peer at him. He looked tired and nervous. "Well, no, but there's no way she would have left it in Tamriel. She wanted to get it as far away from my father as possible. I can't imagine a better place." She shuddered at the thought.

"And if she doesn't?" He ran a hand through his hair again. It seemed to be a nervous habit. No wonder his hair was so messy all the time.

"Then we find out where she hid it," she replied with a casual shrug. Then she frowned. "If she's still alive." Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow. "Well, as alive as she was before. Or is now. Or…you know what I mean."

Nathan grinned in that annoying manner that had become rather charming. But it vanished after a moment, which upset her more than she cared to admit. "Why not just hide it in the Soul Cairn and then return to Tamriel?"

Serana felt her brow furrow. "Probably to avoid whatever my father would do to her if he could get his hands on her." That thought brought back the fear that had been running constantly in the back of her mind for weeks. "Or maybe her plan _was_ to come back, but she was stuck here. We won't know until we find her."

He gave her one of his small, reassuring smiles. "I…sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's fine," she told him, even though she was worried. Then again, she was worried most of the time, these days.

Hopefully, what happened when they found her mother would fix that.

— **||||||||||||||||—**

Nathan woke with a start, but kept his eyes closed. He'd just had some kind of dream; an awful one, one that made him want to curl into a ball. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and tried to recall the details. Once again, the only thing he could remember was the smell of sulfur, though this time there seemed to be something else. He strained his mind, thinking as hard as he could.

There had also been a beam of light in his dream. Odd.

He sighed and opened his eyes, only to stare up at a dark stone ceiling. That's right—he'd woken _up_ to a nightmare as well. He was in the Soul Cairn.

He closed his eyes again, already tired despite the fact that he'd just woken up. Before he'd fallen asleep, he'd balled up his spare shirt as a pillow for himself and let Serana use the smaller blanket for her pillow, despite her protests. Their small shelter was just big enough for the two of them to sleep with some space between them, and he'd fallen asleep with the back of his body pressed against the stone wall. But, he realized, something had clearly changed in the middle of the night.

Nathan yelped quietly in surprise. He should have expected that the space between their two bodies would shrink as they moved around in their sleep, but he hadn't expected it to be so…thorough.

Serana was curled up into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. In the middle of the night, she must have rolled over, or he must have, because they were tangled together quite…well, "nicely" felt like the wrong thing to think, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Nathan felt his whole face, not just his ears, redden when he realized what had happened. The blush only worsened when he realized that he was staring down into very alert, very _awake_ , glowing eyes.

Nathan opened his mouth to say something—to say _anything_ —vaguely intelligent, but the only noise he was able to produce was a strangled, "Guhmurgh." He had no idea what he was even _trying_ to say.

Serana seemed nonplussed. "You're awake."

He thought about trying for verbal affirmation, then thought better of it. He nodded once instead. The thought, _By the Divines, she's beautiful_ , kept running through his head. She smelled like lavender. His heart was pounding. He didn't trust himself to speak. That is, if he _could_ speak.

"You were sleeping pretty soundly, and I didn't want to wake you," she continued. Her voice seemed perfectly calm, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

It didn't, but it also didn't escape Nathan that these types of…incidents were becoming more frequent between them. That warranted thought. And in order to think properly, he would have to extricate himself from her embrace.

Well. Thinking was overrated, anyway.

Unfortunately, Serana was already one step ahead of him, untangling herself and standing in such a professional manner that it had Nathan wondering if he'd done something wrong. The left side of his body felt strangely cold without her there, but he forced himself to focus and stand as well.

He cleared his throat, and his tongue somehow managed to work. Sort of. "We should…uh, get moving. Soon."

And so they started to pack up camp, but he couldn't stop remembering how whole he'd felt with her at his side.


	17. Chapter 17

The walk to the ruined castle was strangely silent, a fact that did not cease to bother Serana.

They'd packed up camp relatively quickly, but had left the Ash Guardian where it was, as a surprise for any dusty old bonewalkers following them. Nathan had been oddly quiet the whole time, and she couldn't help but wonder if things had…changed between them.

She'd woken up about an hour before Nathan had, tangled up quite well with him. Her immediate reaction was to blush like she was some mortal schoolgirl and try to move. But Nathan was sleeping so well, after looking so haggard the day before, that she didn't want to risk waking him up. Besides, it didn't hurt that his scent of juniper berries and pine trees had covered her, or that she felt wonderfully warm curled up into his side (which should have been impossible). So she'd spent the following hour regaining her composure and trying hard not to fall asleep again.

But a few minutes before Nathan had woken up, he'd started muttering things that made no sense in his sleep, like he was having a nightmare. Despite the fact that she'd been right next to him, she could only make out a few words: "dawn," "champion," "dusk," and "book." He'd started thrashing just slightly, but she'd held him lightly in place and it had stopped not too long after.

And then he'd woken up, and it had taken all of her composure not to blush a deep crimson along with him when he'd realized the position that they were in. Now, in the strange silence as they walked, she wondered if her composure had been worth it.

She wasn't sure why she cared so much. But after an hour or two of walking in dead silence—not even interrupted by any of the undead who "lived" in the Soul Cairn—she realized that she enjoyed his stupid jokes and stupid grin and _stupid_ intellectual comments more than she thought possible.

She still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

…but she didn't really have time to think on it further as they got closer to the castle, and her mind was forcibly snapped back to the rather major task at hand.

There was a person standing behind the pink barrier of the castle. From a distance, whoever they were almost looked like one of the Bonemen. But as Nathan and Serana got closer, their shape took on a more feminine form, and hope flooded Serana. It was unlikely that this woman was her mother, but if it was…

Excitement and anxiety filled her in equal measures once they were close enough. The castle now filled most of her vision, and she could see the mystery woman behind the barrier reading a book lazily in a chair, like she had all the time in the world. That certainly seemed like her mother's attitude.

Serana stopped suddenly as her anxiety won out. After all these years, what would her mother think when she saw her only daughter? Would she be glad? Or would she be so worried about the prophecy that Serana came second?

The question spiraled around in Serana's head like a dragon with one of its wings blown off. She didn't even realize she had stopped walking until Nathan gently laid a hand on her upper arm.

She looked up at him. He had this…understanding look on his face, like he knew exactly what was going on in her head. For a moment, the silence was forgotten.

"She's your mother," Nathan said softly. "No matter what, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

Serana looked back up at the castle. They were at the base of the stairs now. The woman in the chair, whom Serana was now _positive_ was her mother, hadn't noticed them yet.

"Thank you," Serana told her friend, sending him a weak but meaningful smile. "I think we shouldn't keep her waiting."

He nodded, and they ascended the steps together. And for the first time in a long time, Serana got a clear look at her mother.

The years did not look like they had been kind. Valerica's pale cheeks had become gaunt, and it was clear that she had not fed—either on blood or food—in a long time. Her fine clothes hung loose around her frame, and she seemed paler than was normal. However, she still had a determined look on her face, and her dark hair was still wrapped into two buns on the back of her head. Her glowing red eyes moved quickly across the page of the book she was reading, as sharp and intelligent as ever.

As soon as Serana saw her, she broke into a sprint, anxiety forgotten for a moment. "Mother!"

From behind the barrier, Valerica's head snapped up, looking straight at Serana with a surprised intensity. Immediately, she stood, staring as if she had seen a ghost. The book in her hands flopped to the ground, landing spine-up. "Maker…it can't be. _Serana?"_

They both reached the barrier at the same time, but when Serana lifted a hand to it, a small shock ran through her. She pulled it back quickly with a small yelp of pain. In the pink light from the shield, Valerica looked even worse.

"Is it really you?" Serana wondered aloud. "I can't believe it!" Her face split into a grin that faded when she looked into the barrier. "How do we get inside? We have to talk."

"Serana?" Valerica repeated, staring at her daughter with fascination. Then she seemed to snap out of it. "What are you doing here? Where's your father?"

 _Ah,_ Serana thought. _There it is._ "He doesn't know we're here. I don't have time to explain." She wasn't even sure she _could_ explain everything that had happened since she'd woken up.

Valerica's face transformed into an expression of fear that was unnerving to see on her. She spoke as if to herself. "I must have failed." Then, to them, "Harkon's found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn't he?"

"No, you've got it all wrong," Serana insisted. "We're here to complete the prophecy our way, not his." It was a lot simpler to say it that way than, _We're here to throw the necessary components for the prophecy into a dark hole and throw away the key._

At the word "we," Valerica's eyes snapped to Nathan, who had been standing silently behind Serana while she and her mother spoke. Valerica's eyes narrowed at him, and Serana thought she could see him swallow nervously. Her mother did sort of have that effect on people.

"Wait a moment," Valerica said, her voice turning hard. "You've brought a stranger here? Have you lost your _mind?_ "

It was like Serana was a kid again, being scolded for trying to sneak off the island. Without thought, she shrunk back. "No, you don't—"

"You," Valerica interrupted, pointing at Nathan with a bony finger. "Come forward. I would speak with you."

Nathan looked at Serana anxiously for a moment, his glowing amber eyes wide, before doing as he was commanded.

"So how has it come to pass," Valerica said, her voice taut, "that a vampire of mixed blood is in the company of my daughter?"

Nathan stiffened, though Serana knew that her mother was only referring to the fact that he was not a pure-blood vampire, not the fact that he was a half-elf.

"I've been keeping her safe," he replied in a calm voice. Serana knew him well enough by now to know that he was trying to keep his anger from rising to the surface.

" _Safe?_ You call bringing her here _safe?_ Has she explained _nothing_ to you?" Valerica's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Serana has sacrificed everything to prevent Harkon from completing the prophecy. I would have _expected_ her to explain that to you."

Serana felt an unexpected flash of anger at her mother's words. Valerica spoke as if Serana had been given a choice in the matter. She really hadn't.

"That's why we're here for the Elder Scroll," Nathan said. His shoulders were tight.

Valerica scoffed. "You think I'd have the audacity to place my own daughter in that tomb for the protection of her Elder Scroll alone? The scrolls are merely a means to an end." She hesitated. "The key to the Tyranny of the Sun is Serana herself."

Serana frowned. That was news to her. When they'd fled Castle Volkihar, her mother had insisted that events were too complicated to explain in time. What else had been kept from her? And what did Valerica mean?

"What do you mean?" he asked, mirroring Serana's thoughts.

"When I fled Castle Volkihar, I fled with _two_ Elder Scrolls," Valerica answered. "The Scroll I presume you found with Serana speaks of Auriel and his arcane weapon, Auriel's Bow."

That part Serana knew. The next part threw her for a loop.

Valerica's expression was twisted into a frown."The second scroll declares that, 'The Blood of Coldharbour's Daughter will blind the eye of the Dragon.'"

It was like someone had punched her in the gut. The prophecy…the one her own _father_ was pursuing…required her _death_.

In that moment, Serana knew that Harkon was a lot crazier than she'd originally thought. And she'd already thought that he was a fanatic. But to kill his own daughter…to kill _her_ …why hadn't her mother _told_ her?

Nathan still looked confused, but concerned. His brows were so furrowed together that they were almost touching. "How does Serana fit in?"

"Like myself, Serana was a human once," Valerica explained, as if speaking to a child. "We were devout followers of Lord Molag Bal. Tradition dictates the females be offered to Molag Bal on his summoning day."

Nathan's eyes looked to Serana on the word _offered_. She tried very hard not to meet his gaze, lest she begin to doubt herself.

"Few survive the ordeal," Valerica continued. "Those that do emerge as a pure-blooded vampire. We call such confluences the 'Daughters of Coldharbour.'"

Serana glanced at Nathan, only to find that he looked thoroughly unraveled and panicked. His eyes flicked around like a caged animal, and his entire body had tensed.

"Are you saying Harkon means to kill her?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Was he really that worried? About _her?_

"If Harkon obtained Auriel's Bow and Serana's blood was used to taint the weapon, the Tyranny of the Sun would be complete. In his eyes, she'd be dying for the good of all vampires," Valerica replied.

Nathan's jaw clenched in a sudden bout of determination. "I would _never_ allow that to happen."

Serana stared at him. She couldn't help it. Not even her own _parents_ had been so outspoken for her well-being. Something started to unfold in her heart, and she was not of the inclination to stop it.

Valerica, on the other hand, looked highly skeptical. "And how exactly do you plan on completing the prophecy without the death of my daughter?"

Nathan started to pace, running both hands through his brown hair. Serana saw something in his expression—a deep worry that mirrored her own. Eventually, he turned back to her mother.

"I…I'll need your help," he said. He looked like he was struggling for words.

Valerica was less than impressed. "Have you been listening to me? Like Serana, I'm a pure-blooded vampire. My presence on Tamriel is as much of a danger as hers."

He straightened suddenly, looking at Serana with an emotion in his eyes that she wasn't sure how to quantify. "And Serana's opinion in this?"

She should have known better than to be surprised by that. But coming to the Soul Cairn, finding her mother…it had reawoken some of her more sheep-like tendencies. No longer. She opened her mouth to say something, but Valerica was already speaking.

"You care _nothing_ for Serana, or our plight.," Valerica snapped. "You see the Tyranny of the Sun as your chance at deification, and like Harkon you won't hesitate to destroy anything that stands in your path."

Nathan recoiled as if he had been physically struck. For a moment, Serana thought she could see real hurt in his eyes. Then his fists clenched tightly, and anger burned brightly in his eyes.

That anger was shared with Serana. Nathan was _nothing_ like Harkon, or the other vampires of the court. Nathan actually _cared_ about people. He cared about _her_. He was kind, and humble, and a billion other things that made her thankful to just be _around_ him. He gave her hope for her future.

He hesitated for a moment—presumably choosing his words carefully—before he spoke.

"You know _nothing_ about me," he snarled, his voice more angry than she had ever heard it. "You know _nothing_ of the things I've seen, or the things I've done. I am _far_ from perfect, but I would _never_ do _anything_ to harm your daughter or the people of the world for something as petty as _glory._ "

Serana found herself staring at him as he took a deep breath, and his shoulders relaxed. The fire in his eyes, however, had not faded a single iota.

"Serana believes in me," he said, his voice frighteningly even. "Why won't _you?"_

Valerica looked affronted by the very idea of that. "Serana?"

Her mother turned to her, and for once, Serana squared her shoulders and would not shrink under the gaze of one of her parents.

"This… _stranger_ may call himself a vampire, but he knows nothing of our struggle," Valerica said, her voice taking on that familiar scolding tone. "Why should I entrust you to him?"

The sheer outrageousness of her mother's words—implying that Serana was a child who needed to be coddled—loosened her tongue. For the first time ever, she allowed her anger to spill forth and out of her mouth, directed solely at her mother.

"This ' _stranger'_ has done more for me in the brief time I've known him than you've done in _centuries!_ " Serana felt the back of her neck grow hot as her fury rose to the surface. She found herself baring her teeth as if she were about to go into battle. Her hands shook.

Valerica's eyes narrowed, either in anger or disbelief that her child had spoken back to her. Probably both. "How _dare_ you! I gave up everything I cared about to protect you from that _fanatic_ you call a _father!_ "

Serana clenched her jaw. "Yes, he's a fanatic. He's…changed. But he's still my father. Why can't you understand how that makes me _feel?"_

Her mother's eyes took on a pitying look that made her want to scream. "Oh, Serana. If you'd only open your eyes. The moment your father discovers your role in the prophecy, that he needs your blood, you'd be in terrible danger!"

Serana had heard enough. Words that she'd kept to herself for so long suddenly burst forth, and she made no effort to stop them.

"So to protect me," she spat, "you decided to shut me away from _everything_ I cared about?! You never asked _me_ if hiding me in that tomb was the best course of action, you just expected me to follow you blindly! Both of you were _obsessed_ with your own paths!" She paused. "Your motivations might have been different, but in the end…in the end I'm still just a pawn to you, too."

The realization was sobering, and in a heartbeat all her anger was replaced with melancholy.

"I want us to be a family again," Serana said, her voice softer. "But I don't know if we can ever have that." Her heart suddenly felt very heavy in her chest, like it was dragging her into the ground to join the other poor souls that filled the sliver of Oblivion she'd stepped into so willingly. "Maybe we don't deserve that kind of happiness. Maybe…it isn't for us." She straightened as resolve filled her. "But we have to stop him. Before he goes too far. And to do that, we need the Elder Scroll."

Valerica looked like someone had deflated her. It was strange to see their positions swapped. Now, Serana was the one with the hardened determination, and Valerica was the one who was slouched, unsure. But Serana would not budge.

"I'm sorry, Serana."

An…apology? Huh. _That_ was unexpected.

"I didn't know," Valerica admitted, looking as if she were feeling every year of her age. "I didn't see. I've allowed my hatred of your father to estrange us for too long. Forgive me. If you want the Elder Scroll, it's yours."

Huh. Who knew parental reconciliation could be so simple?

If only the paternal half of the problem could be solved as easily…


	18. Chapter 18

**please bear with me the original content starts chapter twenty-two-ish. i promise.**

* * *

When they finally left the castle with their new task a few minutes later, Nathan couldn't help but notice that Serana seemed to be able to walk easier. There was just something…different. She carried herself lighter, as if all the words she'd said to her mother had been weighing her down for centuries. Maybe they had been.

"How are you feeling after talking to your mother?" he asked her after a few more minutes of walking towards one of the large stone towers that Valerica had pointed them toward.

She looked up at him with a satisfied look written all over her face. "Relieved…I think." She smiled almost grimly. "All those things had been building for a while. You have no idea how long I wanted to say that to her."

 _Oh, I think I can probably guess_. Nathan kept that thought to himself. Instead, he said, "Why did you ever agree to her plan?" In truth, he was curious. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do what she did.

At that, Serana's expression took on a far away look, though she managed to step over a pile of bones adroitly. "Look," she eventually said, "I loved my father, but when he found that prophecy…that became his life. Everything else, even me and my mother…we just became clutter." There was that ragged hurt in her voice again, as if someone had attempted to patch up her heart and had given up halfway through. "I was close with my mother, but she just kept _feeding_ me her opinions of him, and…well, eventually I started believing them."

Nathan wondered, for a brief moment, if things could have turned out differently with his family had his mother not died at such an important point in his life. Would his family life had become even more like that of Serana's, or less? It was an interesting thought, but one he didn't want to entertain. Far too painful for even a moment's consideration.

He looked back at the castle, which was shrinking in size the further they walked. "She doesn't seem too fond of him."

Serana shrugged. "The _moment_ we gave ourselves to Molag Bal, things got _really_ icy between them. They were both drunk with power, and pulling in different directions. Then he found that prophecy, and…that was it." She spoke in a casual tone, yet he knew her well enough to sense the pain lying underneath.

"And you were caught in the middle," Nathan said, feeling a stab of sympathy for his friend. Nobody deserved to be treated like that, especially not by their own parents. He pushed away the memory that brought.

She nodded. "I was." They steered around a large, glowing, crystalline structure, and she spoke again. "Honestly, it took me up until now to figure out that my mother was really just as bad as he was. He was obsessed with power. She was obsessed with seeing him fail. It was just so…" She sighed. "Toxic." That heaviness returned to her shoulders suddenly, as if she'd realized something. "Maybe I could have seen this coming. We could all be better off now."

Nathan stopped walking suddenly, and gently grabbed her hand to stop her as well. He'd gone down the road of self-blame before, and it hadn't ended well. Not for anyone.

"Hey," he said softly, looking her in the eyes so she knew he was serious. "You shouldn't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

"I know that in my head," Serana admitted, her amber eyes flicking away from his own. "I just can't help feeling bad about…the way things are."

She looked back at him and saw his raised eyebrow. She sighed again. "Sorry, I know you're trying to help. Thanks."

"You deserve to be happy, Serana," Nathan told her, grabbing her other hand and giving both of them a squeeze in hope of communicating how true his words were. "Please never forget that. No matter what happens…with you father, with your whole family…you deserve happiness."

Serana blinked at him, her eyes wide as they searched his. He was suddenly desperate for her to believe him, to take happiness for her own. She deserved so much better than what she had been dealt in life, and he wasn't quite sure how to communicate the breadth of his conviction to her.

Then the oddest thing happened. Her eyes softened, and she got this strange look on her face that made his breath and heart stop in tandem. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. His knees, admittedly, went a little weak.

Nathan swallowed thickly in an attempt to dispel the cloud of butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in his stomach as she pulled back. He was sure that his whole face had gone very red. "Wh-what was that for?"

Serana smiled mysteriously at him. "Just…for being you." She squeezed his hands once and then turned back to their destination in the distance, starting to walk once more.

He touched the spot on his face where she'd kissed him and couldn't help but grin. But he also knew she'd just given him something to think about.

— **||||||||||||||||||—**

"What the hell is that?" Serana whispered.

"No idea," Nathan muttered back, slowly notching an arrow to his bow. "Nothing good, that's for sure."

The thing in question that they were staring at seemed to be some sort of cultic ritual—which wasn't unusual in and of itself. The fact that it was taking place in the _Soul Cairn_ , by _souls_ who had been _soul-trapped_ , warranted further investigation. They'd run across it on their way back to the castle to inform Valerica that the Keepers were dead, but this was too strange to pass up.

There were at least four of the purple-colored ghosts, gathered around a strange purple skull that they'd place on an altar. If Nathan squinted hard enough, he thought he could identify the skull as that of a horse. If that was true, it was the weirdest horse he'd ever seen. Why were the souls using it in this bizarre ritual? In fact, who was the ritual for?

That question was answered a moment later, as thunder cracked overhead. Nathan had a moment to look up at the frightening storm cloud that had gathered over his head before purple lightning flashed, striking the ground—right where the four souls were standing. He almost cried out in alarm, but stopped himself as the dust cleared and he realized what had happened.

In place of the souls, four Mistmen now stood (or, well…floated). They already carried deadly dragonbone weapons, and were already looking around for people to assault. Clearly, in order to avoid suffering in the Soul Cairn, the souls had offered service to the Ideal Masters. In exchange, they'd been turned into the undead creatures that prowled the Soul Cairn.

 _Fascinating,_ Nathan thought, the scholarly side of his brain overriding the horror he felt at such a sight for the moment. He wondered if that's where all the undead in the Soul Cairn came from, but he didn't have time to think on it further. The Mistmen were starting to drift toward Nathan and Serana's hidden location.

Aiming quickly with his magical sight, which was only slightly impaired by the nature of the Soul Cairn, he fired a dragonbone arrow from _Vokunos_ into the first Mistman he saw. The arrow took the creature in the skull, and it collapsed into a hundred little bones and pieces.

Almost immediately, an ice spike thudded into the dust, barely missing Nathan's big toe. He winced. Time for things to get messy.

A few minutes later, the Mistmen were all put out of their misery, leaving Nathan and Serana alone with the strange horse skull.

"Why would anyone put a _horse's_ soul into a black soul gem?" Nathan asked, examining the altar and the horse skull. He must have been imagining it, but he thought he saw a faint purple flicker in the horse skull's eye socket.

"Probably somebody lacking ambition," Serana replied, examining the ripped up soul husks that had been laid around the altar, along with four copies of _The Book of Life and Service._ "The real question is why it was so important to this ceremony."

"Well," he said, peering at the horse skull, "only one way to find out." Then, feeling considerably curious, he grabbed the horse skull and tugged it off the altar.

Immediately, a sudden explosion of purple light sent him flying backwards. He crashed into the ground a couple yards away with a gigantic _thud!_ Pain flashed down his spine, and he realized that he must have landed on a rock or some other kind of blunt object.

He stared at the awful sky for a moment, totally dazed. Then a face appeared over him, looking simultaneously worried and annoyed.

"You _icebrain_ ," Serana hissed at him, kneeling down and helping Nathan sit up.

He winced as he felt the bruise forming on his back. "Oh… _ouch_. What just happened?"

"You were an idiot, that's what happened," she muttered. He stared at her expectantly until she relented. "Honestly? I have no idea."

They froze at the sound of a loud snort nearby, almost like that of a…

Horse?

Nathan and Serana stood at the same time, weapons at the ready as they stared at the strange creature that had appeared in front of them. It seemed to be just that—a horse. But like Nathan had already thought, it was the strangest horse he had ever seen.

Instead of a hide, or skin, the horse's skeleton was exposed, but the Soul Cairn had clearly changed the creature. Its bones were a deep, dark purple, and a tail of purple flame made up its tail and mane. A lighter purple lit up the beast's eye sockets, which were staring straight at Nathan, almost with curiosity.

Nathan stepped forward cautiously, wary of yet another enemy in the Soul Cairn. The horse watched him warily, and as he approached, a thought that didn't sound like his own ran through his head.

 _Arvak._

"Arvak?" Nathan asked the horse, only slightly disturbed by another being's thoughts in his head. It wouldn't be the first time. "Is that your name?"

The horse stamped its ghostly hooves in approval. He thought he heard the faint whisper of a neigh, but decided that it was probably his imagination playing tricks on him. Even so, it wouldn't be the strangest thing that had ever happened to him.

Finally, he was right in front of the strange creature. He reached out a hand to touch it, and Arvak didn't stop him. The skeleton was strangely warm for some kind of undead horse.

Something odd happened when he touched Arvak's skeleton of a body. A purple light (when _wasn't_ anything in this place purple?) emanated from underneath his hand. When he withdrew it, he found the purple glow of a conjuration spell on his palm.

 _Fascinating_.

Nathan stored the information away for later and patted Arvak on the neck. The horse snorted in pleasure. Now that they had a faster means of transportation―for the transformed horse seemed perfectly willing to help them―their travel time would be cut in half. They could be out of this place in no time.

He adjusted the straps on his bag and carefully swung up onto Arvak's back. It was a bit of a struggle without a saddle, but Nathan gave himself a little telekinetic push so as to not embarrass himself. The horse's spine was a bit uncomfortable, but it was a lot better than walking. His feet were _killing_ him.

"Uh…Nathan?" Serana asked. "What are you doing?"

Nathan looked over to find her looking worried and uncertain, and staring at Arvak with trepidation in her eyes.

He held out a hand to her. "Come on."

She still looked unsure. "I don't know, Nathan."

He smiled at her. "Trust me. Arvak's harmless."

"The fact that you know that horse's name isn't very comforting," she grumbled, but she did take a step forward. She hesitated for just a moment before grabbing his hand.

He swung her up and behind him—carefully, so as not to knock either of them over. Arvak snorted, though whether it was amused or just a normal horse sound, Nathan couldn't tell.

He squeezed Arvak's ribcage with the sides of his legs, and the skeletal horse began to _move_ , turning standing still into a gallop in a matter of seconds. Nathan cried out in surprise and grabbed the creature around the neck. Serana, in turn, yelped and gripped his waist tightly.

Granted, Nathan had some experience riding horses. But what he did _not_ have experience with was riding a horse that was literally all bones with a beautiful vampiress holding onto him as they galloped through a hellish sliver of Oblivion. Life was strange that way.

It definitely took some adjusting, especially when Serana rested her chin on his shoulder, her chest pressed against his back, so she could ask, "So…do you and this horse actually know which direction we're going?"

"Of course!" Nathan lied. "It's…uh, this way."

He heard her unimpressed scoff and grabbed his arm, which was still clutching Arvel's neck, to redirect them in the opposite direction. "You're an idiot."

Nathan could only hum in agreement, and wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating with her so close to him.

 _I really need to get a handle on this._


	19. Chapter 19

He was almost glad for the distraction when the dragon swooped out of the sky.

They'd returned to the castle—making quick time with Arvak as their mode of transport—and informed Valerica that the Keepers were done for. She'd seemed surprised, and it was odd to see her without the pink tinge of light from the barrier in the way.

Nathan had smiled as Serana hugged her mother, but he'd been too lost in thought for the past hour to say much.

His mind kept spiraling back to the past few days. The moment in the undercroft, after she'd bandaged his arm, when she'd hugged him. The moment before they'd found Valerica's laboratory. Waking up to find her huddled against him. How he'd _felt_ during all of those instances.

His first thought, when faced with all the evidence, was that it must have been love. But he almost immediately dismissed the thought.

He didn't exactly have a good track record with love. His mother, the only person he was convinced had ever _truly_ loved him, died when he was just six-years old. After that, his father had become a nightmare.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from thinking about it. It wouldn't do anyone any good to start moping about _that_.

He hadn't really… _loved_ anyone before, at least not in that way. Before, when he was blind, he would occasionally use his disability as a way to pick up "fair maidens," as most bards would put it, but it had never progressed far. People, most notably women, viewed his blindness as the making of a charity case, and those who didn't only saw his slightly pointed ears.

No, the conclusion here was clear. This was not love, merely...infatuation. Strong infatuation, granted, but infatuation nonetheless. Besides, he'd only known Serana for a few weeks. Surely, if he were to actually fall in love, it would take longer than that.

A verse suddenly popped into his head as Valerica led them into the courtyard of the ruined castle. It was something that had been ingrained in him as a young boy, along with many other teachings.

 _Come to me, Mara, for without you, I might forget the ways of our fathers, and preening by the light of latest fashion, my words might tremble like the thin reeds of novelty in the tempest of enthusiasms._

It was something from the foreword of the third edition of the book _Pocket Guide to the Empire._ Like all things having to do with the goddess, this verse had been beaten into his brain, along with the teaching that followed: "Without Mara, men are subject to the weakest of whims. Without love, there is only infatuation and pain."

Nathan wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean in this situation. He pushed it out of mind, on general principles. He hadn't thought of those teachings in a long time and was rather frustrated that he had called them to mind so easily.

Luckily, something came along to bring him a distraction soon.

Nathan and Serana had just followed Valerica past the wooden door that led deeper into the castle and stepped into the courtyard. It looked exactly like the rest of the Soul Cairn: desolate and empty. However, there was a long, flat, cement floor across the ground. If the sight had been in Tamriel, Nathan might have mistaken it for an outdoor ballroom floor, something for noblemen and their wives (or mistresses) to dance on outdoors. Since it was in the Soul Cairn, he had no idea what its use might be, but it didn't matter.

He was the first to hear it. He had plenty of practice with identifying when a dragon was near, after all. In the distance, clearly heard above the thunder of the Soul Cairn, he thought he could hear wings flapping. Then a roar, distinctly like that of a large dragon.

"What is _that?_ " Serana asked as Nathan drew his sword.

"It's Durnehviir," Valerica gasped.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the dragon crested the top of the castle. For a moment, Nathan paused.

Durnehviir was larger than most dragons that he had fought before—almost as big as Alduin had been. His scales were a sickly green, and his wings were a strange mixture of purple and black. They were also ragged and full of holes and scars, which is how Nathan knew he was dealing with a truly ancient dragon. Durnehviir's claws were the size of Nathan's whole arm, and the dragon's teeth were pale and sharp.

Durnehviir snarled as he flew over the top of the castle, and Nathan temporarily sheathed his sword and drew _Vokunos_ instead. He notched three arrows to his bow string, aimed carefully, and fired.

He wasn't disappointed. All three arrows found their mark, though it was really only the third one that had any affect. The first two caught in Durnehviir's wings, penetrating the thin membrane there, but having little consequences. The third one buried itself up to the shaft in Durnehviir's shoulder blade, right between the socket and the joint. The dragon roared in pain, and flapped, one wing folded into his chest, to the ground.

Nathan smiled grimly. He'd perfected that move so that he wouldn't have to use the Dragonrend shout. He tried to avoid using it, after what Arngeir had told him about the nature of shouts. He had enough pain and hatred in him already without adding the side effects of a shout to it.

He slung _Vokunos_ over his back and ignored the stunned looks that Valerica and Serana sent his way. Instead, he made his way toward the ensuing battle.

Up close, Durnehviir was even more fearsome. His skin almost looked like it had decayed, and if Nathan wasn't mistaken, there was also a strange, disgusting ooze leaking from his pores that managed to unnerve Nathan.

Durnehviir looked right at Nathan and Shouted, "DIIL QOTH ZAAM!"

Nathan had barely translated the words in his head— _Undead, Tomb, Slave_ —before Wrathmen were climbing out of the dust and surrounding him.

 _Idiot,_ he cursed himself, looking around at the skeletons wielding dragonbone axes around him. Individually, they were challenging. But he was surrounded by six of them, and he could also tell that Durnehviir was readying himself for another shout.

Nathan took a deep breath and readied himself to unleash his thu'um, but suddenly a whirlwind of ice exploded from somewhere behind him, completely demolishing three of the Wrathmen and giving him a chance to escape.

He grinned before he dived to the left, and Durnehviir's unrelenting force shout ripped through his own Wrathmen. Serana really was amazing.

 _Infatuation,_ his analytical brain reminded him.

 _Wanna bet?_ another part of his brain whispered back.

Nathan's grin turned into a scowl as he came up from the roll. Was he really thinking about a girl? _Now?_

 _Focus, you moron._

He cast up a glowing blue ward just in time, and a fireball from another summoned creature slammed into the shield. He kept the ward up but send a bolt of lightning arcing for the Mistman. Almost immediately, four more of the undead popped up.

Across the courtyard, he saw Serana and her mother working in tandem to defend themselves from even more undead, along with the occasional shout from Durnehviir.

The solution was obvious. The only reason there were so many creatures to fight was because Durnehviir kept summoning them. Piece of cake.

Nathan decided to do something crazy. Something that caught most of his opponents off guard.

He lowered his ward and his sword and charged right at Durnehviir.

The dragon clearly hadn't expected this course of action―indeed, it almost seemed like suicide, even to Nathan―and turned to face him, but Durnehviir's body was too big and cumbersome to get there in time.

Nathan switched his sword to his left hand and jumped onto Durnehviir's neck, grabbing one of the dragon's horns and swinging around onto the back of his head. Durnehviir roared in protest, but there was nothing the dragon could have done but aggressively nod his head up and down.

Across the courtyard, Valerica paused as she watched the young vampire attack Durnehviir. "Did your friend just do what I think he did?"

Serana looked over, sighed, and said, "Yeah." Then they resumed the fighting.

Nathan hung on for dear life, gripping one of Durnehviir's slimy horns as tightly as he was able. In his left hand, he took his dragonbone sword and slammed it into the side of Durnehviir's face as hard as he could. Black blood poured from a large wound in the dragon's jaw, and Nathan risked loosening his grip on the horn a little bit to get a better chance for what came next.

The next time Durnehviir swung his head, Nathan went with it, nearly flung from the top of the beast's head. But he used his momentum to drive his sword directly into Durnehviir's eye.

It was all over after that. Durnehviir screamed in agony, cocking his head back as his spine arched in pain. Unfortunately, that meant that Nathan, who was already in danger of falling off, was tossed head over heels behind Durnehviir.

 _Mara's booger-stained nostril hairs,_ Nathan thought, before he crashed into the dirt.

Luckily, he landed in a bush, so the fall wasn't as bad as it could have been. Even so, he still felt sharp pain shoot down his arm, the same one that was already injured as he landed in a heap of limbs. All the air was pressed from his lungs, and he gasped in pain.

 _Serana is right,_ he thought. _I really_ am _an icebrain._

He groaned and rolled out of the bush just in time to see Durnehviir's body burn with a strange, purplish fire before disappearing completely.

 _Well,_ Nathan thought, clumsily standing, _that's disappointing._ And interesting. He _always_ absorbed knowledge from any dragon that he had killed. Perhaps the Soul Cairn had interfered with the process somehow?

He winced and held his left arm against his chest. It wasn't broken, but something was clearly wrong. He might have reopened the bite in his arm, or he might have even sprained it. He _really_ needed to think his plans through more carefully.

He started to walk toward Serana and Valerica, who were gaping at the spot where Durnehviir had just been a moment before. Nathan scooped up his fallen sword from off the ground.

Serana's eyes flicked to him, filled with worry. Then, unexpectedly, her face darkened with anger. She began to march toward him, and for a wild moment he thought she was going to murder him.

"You're such an _idiot!_ " she exclaimed, coming to a stop before him with her eyes burning angrily. "You could have been _killed!"_

He opened his mouth to say something, realized that she was right, and shut it. What was he supposed to say to that? And why did the fact that she was so concerned for his safety make him so happy?

He took a step toward her but winced as a new wave of pain flashed up his arm. She really was right. He was a bit too impulsive for his own good.

Her expression softened when she saw him clutch his arm harder against his chest. She frowned and held up a hand, one that was already glowing with the golden light of a healing spell. Before Nathan had a chance to protest—they really should be conserving their magicka in the event of another attack—she had stepped forward and was gently taking his arm in her hands.

The pain came again, but it was severely lessened. Nathan watched wordlessly as Serana raised her glowing hand and carefully healed whatever wound was left in his arm. She strategically avoided the bandaged part of his arm, presumably to continue to let the infection heal. But after a few moments, his arm felt immeasurably better.

"You really had me worried for a second," Serana said, releasing his arm. She was still standing rather close, however.

In all the fighting, she hadn't had a chance to keep an eye on the still slightly injured half-elf until it was too late and was jumping on top of a dragon's head. She couldn't believe what he was doing—that he was being so _stupid_ —until Durnehviir was dead. Then, of course, Nathan had gone flying, and her world had become a flurry of emotions. Anger, fear, and worry were the top ones. For a moment, she'd been unable to do anything but stare at where Nathan had just been—on top of Durnehviir—and then the dragon's body had disappeared and he had come stumbling forward and relief and anger had taken precedence.

It surprised her just how angry she was. Hadn't he thought of what could happen if he died? Had he not considered the consequences? She would have had to face her father on her own. Not to mention what it would have _done_ to her if he'd died…

Unexpectedly, she felt her throat began to close up with the thought. The threat of death was ever present for both of them, especially her, but she'd never really thought about it before.

Nathan struggled with himself as he watched her watch him with eyes that seemed almost hurt. She was clearly upset by what he'd just done, and that touched him in a way that he couldn't fully explain. He'd always traveled alone, and had never had to deal with the consequences of his reckless actions before. They typically worked out, but they also left him injured more often than not. He'd never really had someone care enough about him to warrant such a reaction.

 _Infatuation,_ his brain whispered, but it was softer now, and his heart wasn't really listening anyway.

He lifted his hand to touch her face before he'd even realized what he was doing. Gently, he brushed a bit of hair out of her face and behind her ear. He was sure that he was truly undead now, because his heart seemed to have stopped beating entirely.

"Hey," he said softly, meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…worry you. I'll be more careful next time."

She stared at him for so long with those beautiful eyes of hers that it made him realize that he'd left his hand resting on her cheek. Immediately, he blushed a deep red, and wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds.

Then the unexpected happened. She raised her hand and covered his palm with her own, effectively restarting his heart, which started to beat a thousand miles a minute. She was looking at him in a way that made him want to do something reckless, impulsive, and stupid _again_. This time, though, he thought it might have a different consequence…

Valerica suddenly coughed, _loudly,_ and Nathan thought his heart would fall right out of his mouth with how high he jumped in surprise. He and Serana moved apart so fast it was as if a shaft of sunlight had appeared between them. He couldn't meet her eyes, sure that his face looked as red as the blood that so lavishly decorated Castle Volkihar.

 _Mara's toenails!_ Nathan managed to think. Not only had…whatever that was just _happened_ , which went against everything he'd been trying to convince himself of for the past few hours, but it had happened _in front of Serana's mother._ If that wasn't embarrassing, he didn't know what was. He almost wanted to find a way to revive Durnehviir so that he could throw himself into the dragon's jaws.

Fortunately, the fates seemed to be on his side. Valerica wasn't even looking in their direction, but staring at the spot where Durnehviir had lain a few minutes ago. Her face was twisted into a frown of concentration not unlike her daughter's. She hadn't coughed to break them apart, it seemed.

"Durnehviir is dead," she eventually said, brows furrowed in a way that was very similar to her daughter's.

"You sound surprised," Nathan managed to eek out, clearing his throat a few times for good measure. He looked over at Serana, accidentally made eye contact, and immediately looked away, flushing even deeper.

She seemed to think for a moment, then shook her head. "Not surprised. It is more likely that his physical form was misplaced while he reconstitutes himself. It could take minutes, or years."

Nathan frowned. That couldn't be good. He'd already faced one supposedly almighty dragon. He didn't want to face one that couldn't die.

"Come," Valerica said, breaking through the silence that was loaded for more than one reason. "Let's get you that Elder Scroll."


	20. Chapter 20

"Let me carry the scroll," Serana said, somehow managing to sound as nonchalant as ever.

Nathan cocked an eyebrow at her, though he still couldn't meet her eyes. "Why? I've got an enchanted pack, I can—"

She shook her head. "You're still injured, and you're already carrying a lot. Let me carry the blasted scroll, Icebrain."

He chuckled and nodded. It seemed that she had just become as protective of him as he was of her. He took the Elder Scroll, which he had been temporarily transporting under his arm, and handed it to her. Like all Elder Scrolls, it was heavier than it looked, and his good arm dipped under the weight. Despite the fact that the scroll was invincible, and they both knew it, Serana took it with careful hands and strapped it to her back, like she had with the first Elder Scroll when they'd first met.

"Two down, one to go," she said, sharing a confident smile with him.

"And I know where to find it," Nathan replied, squaring his shoulders back, finally starting to feel back to normal.

Serana frowned. "And how, exactly, do you know that?"

He shot her a grin along with some waggled eyebrows that he hoped made him more mysterious and didn't respond. She just rolled her eyes.

They had just finished their conversation with Valerica and were heading out, finally free of the Soul Cairn. Serana was more quiet than usual, and he knew that she was wishing that her mother could come with them. He'd already promised that they would return for her once events had run their course. It was a promise he intended to keep; no one deserved to spend any longer in that hellish place than needed. Besides, Serana deserved to have her mother around.

With the ability to summon Arvak in his roster of spells, Nathan knew that they would be out of there in no time. He never thought he'd say that anything looked ugly, but this place was definitely _ugly._

He'd just pushed open the door to the ruined castle that led back out into the rest of the Soul Cairn. It took him half a moment to take in the sight before him before his sword was drawn and he was marching right for Durnehviir.

The dragon was sitting on a ruined chunk of stone that must have fallen from the castle a long time ago. He looked as alive(ish) as he had been just a few minutes ago, staring at Nathan with curiosity in his draconian eyes.

"Stay your weapons. I would speak with you, Qahnaarin." Durnehviir's voice was deep, like all dragons', but it seemed…different, somehow. Nathan couldn't put his finger on it, but it was enough to make him hesitate.

He knew that dragons were bound by a code of honor, so if Durnehviir said that he wanted to talk, he meant it. That didn't mean that the dragon wouldn't attack as soon as the conversation was over, however. Nathan lowered his sword but kept it drawn. Beside him, Serana looked simultaneously fascinated and slightly frightened by unfolding events. No doubt she'd never had a conversation with a dragon before.

"I thought you were dead," Nathan said carefully.

Durnehviir let out a sound that might have been a snort of laughter. "Cursed, not dead. Doomed to exist in this form for eternity. Trapped between _laas_ and _dinok_ , between life and death."

 _An undead dragon,_ Nathan thought. _That's a first._ Parthurnaax would _love_ to have a conversation with him.

He decided to cut right to the chase. "Why are we speaking?"

Durnehviir cocked his head at the Dragonborn. "My claws have rendered the flesh of _innumerable_ foes, but I have never once been felled on the field of battle. I therefore honor-name you 'Qahnaarin,' or 'Vanquisher,' in your tongue."

Nathan already knew what the name meant. His dovah speech had increased rapidly over the years. Especially after the events in Solstheim. Still, he thought of the battle with Durnehviir, about the way he'd been tossed about like a fish out of water. "I found you equally worthy."

Durnehviir's rotten lips peeled back in an imitation of a smile. "Your words do me great honor. My desire to speak with you was born from the result of our battle, Qahnaarin. I merely wish to respectfully ask a favor of you."

Nathan wasn't sure he liked where this was going. He looked at Serana, only to find her looking just as confused as he felt.

"What kind of a favor?" he asked cautiously.

"For countless years I've roamed the Soul Cairn, in unintended service to the Ideal Masters. Before this, I roamed the skies above Tamriel. I desire to return there."

 _Yeah, you and me both._ Nathan pushed the sense of urgency away. He'd never had a dragon ask him for help before. He was curious. Most of the time, they had far too much pride for that.

It was also obvious that the dragon's time had taken a toll on him. He appeared to have the rotting body of a dead dragon, though Nathan had never seen that before. Usually, when he killed a dragon, their body dissolved as he absorbed their soul. The dragon was not dead, but he was no longer living. His name was another clue: _Dur Neh Viir_. It meant _Curse Never Dying._ It was painfully obvious, at least to Nathan, that the dragon would never be able to leave the Soul Cairn without some form of assistance.

He felt sympathy for the ancient dragon. "How can I help?"

Durnehviir gave one of those strange dragon-smiles again. "I will place my name with you and grant you the right to call my name from Tamriel. Do me this simple honor and I will fight at your side as your _Grah-Zeymahzin_ , your ally, and teach you my Thu'um.

Nathan felt his stomach drop at the thought of yet _another_ shout to be learned. The last time he'd tried to learn a shout, people had died. But he couldn't resist helping someone else in need, especially when that other person was a dragon. Even if it meant learning two new shouts.

He did, however, look at Serana, who still had no idea that he was the Dragonborn. She probably didn't even know what they were talking about. Her face was the perfect picture of confusion.

Eventually, he nodded. Durnehviir looked ecstatic. Well, as ecstatic as an undead dragon could look.

"Remember, Qahnaarin," the dragon said. "Simply speak my name to the heavens when you feel the time is right."

 _Yeah,_ Nathan found himself thinking. _That is, if I ever shout again._

— **||||||||||||||||||||—**

It was an incredible relief when they finally stepped out of the portal to the Soul Cairn. Nathan couldn't help but inhale deeply as soon as he was out and ascending the steps to the second tier of Valerica's laboratory. Even the dim, crowded space was better than the awfulness of the Soul Cairn.

His mind was still spinning with the revelations he had learned of in the sliver of Oblivion. The news that Valerica had shared was the most alarming. He had no difficulty believing that Harkon meant to kill his own daughter. The man was clearly insane and obsessed with the prophecy, and now that Nathan knew the truth, Harkon seemed a thousand times more crazy. It also brought to mind memories that he would rather forget, and he tried his hardest by focusing on something else.

He glanced behind him to make sure that Serana was indeed following him, and there hadn't been some kind of terrible mishap with the portal, then walked over to a small chair in the corner and started unwrapping his bandage. He wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed in the Soul Cairn, but he was positive it had been at least a day. Yet in the mortal plane, the sun was still shining from a few cracks in the laboratory's ceiling. Perhaps time passed differently in the Soul Cairn.

He hissed in displeasure as he peeled back the bandage on his arm. The cut was still fresh, and he wondered if vampires healed at a naturally slower rate than other people. However, the infection seemed to be gone completely, which meant that he could now use a healing spell on it. He lifted a hand to do it, but hesitated when Serana sat down across from him, her hand already glowing with a healing spell.

She sure liked to take care of him. It was nice, in a way. No one else had ever really done that for him before, and the times when he'd gone to the Temple of Kynareth didn't count. It made him want to smile, which confused him in a dozen different ways.

He realized he was staring at her too late. She glanced up at him as she started to hold the healing spell over his arm, and the wound started to seal itself up. "What?"

Yes, what? He had a million different things going on in his head, but he needed to focus on the task at hand. He said the first semi-related thing that came to mind.

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" Nathan asked in a soft voice.

Serana paused, the wound in his arm only halfway healed. When she looked up at him, there was a deep sadness in her eyes.

"No," she said in a voice just as quiet. "It's probably not." Then her glowing amber eyes hardened with determination. "I mean, what do you think my father will do when we bring him the bow?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Why did everything have to end in a fight? Maybe he was tired of fighting. "He'll…want to use it."

She nodded as she resumed healing his arm. His skin tingled underneath her magicka. "And at that point, he'll have everything he's ever wanted." As she finished healing him, her eyes saddened again. "He won't need either of us anymore."

For a moment, Nathan's confused mind cleared. He _hated_ seeing that look in her eyes. He _hated_ watching her agonize over this. He despised watching her in any amount of pain. So, his thoughts understandable for the first time in hours, he reached out with his freshly healed arm and grasped her hand in his.

She didn't look up at him—choosing instead to stare at a spot in the stone floor—but she did grip his hand back. There seemed to be a desperation to it, as if holding his hand was the only thing keeping her from blowing away with the wind.

Nathan wasn't exactly sure what to say to comfort her. He knew the conclusion, but he wanted there to be another one. He understood that that feeling would be a million times stronger in Serana, despite everything that had happened and everything that they had learned.

"So what do we do?" he eventually asked, not sure if she would have figured out another option, or if she was thinking along the same lines as he was.

She lifted those sad eyes to him. "I think you know. We both know what's going to have to happen once we find the bow." She squeezed his hand, as if _he_ were the one who needed comfort. "Keep strong, and eyes open. We're on a different path now."

For a moment, Nathan marveled at her strength. If he was faced with such a task, he wasn't sure if he could do it, despite all the horrible things that his father had done to him. Yet this woman, who had slept for hundreds of years, was prepared to sacrifice her father for the greater good.

They stayed like that for a long time before either one of them moved. It was Nathan who stood first, taking Serana's hand with him. She followed him after a moment.

"We should get moving," he said, reluctantly letting go of her hand to adjust the straps on his pack.

"You're right," she said with a sigh. "I'd rather not go through the rest of the tower again. I wonder if there's another way out of here?"

Nathan looked around the room, sending a ball of light flying around to see if there were any hidden doors anywhere. Sure enough, hidden in a small niche behind the table of bones, he could see a small wooden door, with snow gathering underneath it as the wind blowed.

"Let's see where that goes," he said, nodding toward the door in question.

When he crossed the room to open it—having to shove his shoulder into it to get the blasted thing to open—he was disappointed to find that the door only led to a small outdoor bridge. The bridge itself was supposed to lead to another door, but that one was sealed behind a ton of fallen bricks from the east tower. The stone railing on the bridge had long since fallen into the Ghost Sea below.

Nathan shivered in the cold wind that blew in as he stepped out onto the bridge, wondering if there was perhaps another way down. Maybe he could move the rubble out of the way?

He instantly decided that that was a bad idea. For one, he'd have to use his Voice, and that could bring the whole tower down around their ears. For another, even if it didn't, there was no guarantee that the other tower would be completely intact inside. Not to mention that the rumbling would alert Harkon and his minions…

Nathan sighed and leaned against one of the stable parts of the bridge's railing. In this portion of the tower, the shade shielded them from the oppressive sun's rays. It was now about noon, and seeing the sun in the sky, reflecting off the waves of the ocean, was a welcome sight after the Soul Cairn. The world was beautiful, and despite everything that had happened since he'd gained the gift of sight, he was glad that he was able to see it.

"What's that?" Serana asked as she sidled up next to him. She was squinting at something in the distance.

Nathan followed her gaze and squinted as well. Despite the bright light of the sun, he could just barely make out the shape of a boat approaching the castle.

"Is that who I think it is?" Serana said, nudging Nathan with an elbow.

He closed his eyes—more for a rest from the bright sun than anything—and stretched his magical sight as far as it would go. He was just barely able to see the pilot of the small sailboat.

Serana watched Nathan's face split into a massive grin, his eyes still closed. Whatever he saw, it was obviously good. It was strange to see that expression on his face after everything they'd learned, but it was comforting. If nothing else, Nathan was still as chipper as ever. It made her want to smile a little bit, too.

He opened his eyes suddenly, and she wasn't prepared. She looked away quickly, lest he realize that she had been staring.

"It's a friend," Nathan said, still grinning.

Serana could only think of one other friend, especially one who owned a sailboat. "What is he doing sailing toward the castle?"

"Only one way to find out," Nathan replied.

He pushed himself away from the railing and walked to the small portion of the bridge that was unprotected from accidental falls. Below them, the Ghost Sea splashed loudly.

"Please don't tell me you expect me to jump down there," Serana deadpanned.

He looked back at her, a crazy look in his eyes. "We're vampires, aren't we? A fall like this is nothing to us. Didn't you teach me that vampires were tougher than regular mortals?"

"That didn't mean I wanted you to jump off a _bridge!_ "

Nathan sent her this smile that somehow made his suggestion seem far less ludicrous. Serana wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Trust me," he said. "As a mortal, I fell into a _much_ more violent ocean from a _much_ higher height, and I was fine."

"You _what!?_ "

His smile only seemed to deepen, sending her heart spiraling traitorously out of control. "Trust me. We'll be fine."

And with that, Nathan jumped off the bridge and into the ocean far below.

For a heart-stopping moment, Serana just stared at the spot where he'd stood just a second before. Then she rushed to the edge and peered down into the ocean. She let out a relieved breath when she saw Nathan's dark form swimming forward, completely fine.

She sighed angrily. "I can't believe I've thrown my lot in with this idiot." _And I can't believe that I actually like being around him._

Then she took a deep breath, straightened her clothes, and jumped into the Ghost Sea.


	21. Chapter 21

Harkon finished draining the thrall and tossed her body aside like it was a ragdoll. The Imperial was about as valuable.

He was sitting in his quarters with the recovered Elder Scroll, staring at its beauty with a fascinated eye. Soon, he would have another to add to his collection, and after that, a third. Once that was completed, he could properly begin the quest to rid the world of the oppressive sun for all his kind.

There were but a few wrinkles in the plan to sort out first.

"Garan!" Harkon barked, sitting down in front of the throne by his fireplace.

He smiled in enjoyment as he heard shuffling outside his room as the Dunmer rushed forward. There was a moment of hesitation as Garan straightened his robes outside the chamber, and then he came striding in.

"How goes the hunt?" Harkon asked, folding his hands in front of him. Patiently. Benevolently. He was both.

"Not much progress has been made, my lord," Garan replied, looking calm despite the bad news he was delivering. Good. Weakness was death.

But too much strength was a threat. "And what of the young half-elf who has beguiled my daughter?" Harkon crossed his arms as he stared into the fire.

Somehow, Harkon had known that making the boy a vampire would end up being a short-term solution. But it was paying off so far—Nathan had found the Elder Scroll, and was keeping Serana docile for now. Sooner or later, the half-breed vampire would grow too ambitious. It was time to begin playing the chess game.

"I…am not sure where he and Serana went, Lord Harkon," Garan replied, looking troubled. "It has been two days, but none in the court are sure where they disappeared to."

 _Ah. So they found my traitorous wife, then._ Harkon smiled grimly. The pieces were falling into place.

"His name is Nathan Scarlett," he said. He turned in his seat to look directly at Garan Marethi. "Send out the spies. Find me everything you can about this half-elf. Any weaknesses, anything that can be used against him."

Garan hesitated. "Should I keep this quiet, my lord?"

Harkon nodded. "Of course. One word of this and the court will scurry around like a den of skeevers. No, I need this to be discreet. Can you do this for me?"

Garan bowed low. "Yes, Lord Harkon. It shall be done."

Harkon's grim smile returned as he turned back to the fire.

He had a feeling that a certain Daedric Prince was going to be pleased.


	22. Chapter 22

Guy cursed and hurried to retie a rope that had managed to get loose. In his haste to get out of Solitude's docks, he hadn't been as meticulous as he'd usually been in preparing the boat.

Water from the sea sprayed his face as he leaned down to fix the rope. In his pocket, Meridia's beacon bounced around, reminding him of his urgency. If there was anyone who could help him, it was the two vampires that he knew.

He stood up straight and turned back to the sail—only to find a person in dark armor sitting on a bench, grinning up at him.

Guy couldn't help it. He yelped in surprise and jumped backward, but his heel hit the back of the boat's edge and he toppled over the edge, into the waters.

He was no stranger to falling into the ocean. In fact, he usually enjoyed it. But this time, as the roar of water filled his ears and he was almost swept away by the current, Guy couldn't help this bitter thought: _I told him not to make a habit of this!_

It took him only a few moments to orient himself and swim back up to the surface. Before he could grab the side of the boat, and hand gripped the back of his shirt and hauled him back inside.

Nathan looked incredibly sheepish as he lifted Guy to his feet. "I'm _so_ sorry about that, Guy."

Guy muttered a grumpy curse and spat sea water out of his mouth. "You are perfectly capable of a 'hello,' Nathan."

"He's right, you know," another, female voice said. "You do have a bad habit of not announcing your presence."

Guy started when he realized that Serana was in his boat as well, although this time he managed not to knock himself into the water. All three of them were sopping wet, and it was comforting to know that these vampires had swum to his boat, not teleported.

Nathan threw up his hands in exasperation. "What am I supposed to say when I'm sneaking up on a draugr? 'Excuse me, sir, would you kindly move your ancient bones out of the way so I can raid your resting place?'"

Serana rolled her eyes. "It's called common courtesy, you icebrain."

Nathan grinned right back at her. After a moment, he turned to Guy, who was watching the exchange with a curious eye. "Why are you headed to Castle Volkihar? I thought you said this place was haunted."

Guy winced. In the presence of two vampires who were clearly no strangers to dangerous situations, he felt the weight of his cowardice a bit more clearly. "I…um, have a _situation_ that I thought you two could help resolve."

At that, both vampires looked at him curiously, no doubt wondering what task would require him to head back to the castle he'd protested going to so heavily the first time to retrieve two creatures of the night.

"All right," Nathan said, nodding. He sat down on the bench next to Serana. "Why don't you tell us what happened?"

"And maybe turn this boat around," Serana added. "I doubt my father would appreciate a mortal showing up by boat out of nowhere."

 _Her father?_ Guy wondered, then put it out of mind. He was sure that he didn't want to know.

Instead, he focused on turning the sailboat around. It was no easy task, in the middle of the ocean, but he managed it, spitting out the story of what had happened to him as he worked. By the time they reached the closest bit of land, the cold wind had blown his clothes dry and he was shivering in the wind. He anchored the sailboat as he finished telling them about the voice of the Daedric Prince Meridia that had rung so clearly in his mind.

He may have been a somewhat undereducated Nord, but even he knew about the daedric lords and their associated plots. He had no desire to be part of Meridia's, but whenever he tried to throw away her beacon, it always shot back to him. Hard. He still had a bruise on his chest from one such occasion.

Nathan whistled once Guy was finished. "Wow. Meridia. Man, you really got yourself in deep."

Guy nodded vigorously. "Tell me about it." He pulled the beacon out from his pocket and showed the strange silver orb to them. "This thing won't leave my side."

Nathan peered at the orb curiously. He didn't try to touch it, for which Guy was grateful. As the sun reflected off the orb, the light shone on Nathan's neck.

Immediately, he cursed in pain and jumped backward, and this time it was he who fell over the side of the boat.

"Ouch," his muffled voice came a moment later.

Serana and Guy stepped out of the boat, the sand squishing underneath their feet. Nathan groaned and stood up, wincing. His face was coated in a thin layer of sand, and a clod of dirt was stuck in his brown hair.

"I suppose I deserve that, don't I?" he muttered, wiping the sand off his face with a hand. He didn't notice the dirt in his hair.

Serana and Guy chuckled, though the former chuckled much more loudly. "Yeah, you—what's that?"

"What's— _ow!_ "

Nathan had started to look down at what Serana was pointing at—something on his neck that Guy hadn't gotten a good look at—and then snapped his head back up in pain. There was a small, red burn on Nathan's neck that looked fairly painful. With a start, Guy realized that the burn was from the light that had reflected off of Meridia's beacon.

"Talos, Nathan, I'm sorry," Guy apologized, feeling guilt stir in his chest. He didn't like hurting people. "I didn't mean to—"

Nathan waved his hand in dismissal and sat down on a rock. He lifted a pale hand to his neck, winced again, and summoned a healing spell to his hand as he spoke. "It's fine. I should have expected that. After all, Meridia despises the undead, doesn't she?"

Serana nodded. "And she hates Molag Bal."

Guy wasn't sure what significance that was supposed to have, but Nathan groaned. "Great."

Nonetheless, Nathan turned back to Guy. "And you can't throw that thing away?"

"Yeah," Guy said, feeling the orb bounce around in his pocket. "I just want to get rid of it, man."

Nathan shot him a comforting smile. To anyone else, the expression would have seemed strange on a vampire, but to Guy, it was familiar. Nora had used that same look to get him to relax many times.

"Don't worry," Nathan said, taking his hand away from his neck. A pink scar was left on his neck, in the shape of a strange lightning bolt. "We'll help you."

Serana cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "We will?" She winced. "Er, no offense, Guy."

"None taken," he replied. He fully expected people like these to already be busy with their own adventures. He'd figured it would be worth a try to find them, however.

Even so, Nathan nodded again. "We will. Think about it, Castle. It'll throw Harkon's thugs off our trail, plus we might be able to find something useful in Meridia's Temple. Not to mention the fact that Guy is our friend."

Guy smiled a little at those words. He didn't have many friends, these days. The sailboat business was surprisingly cutthroat.

Serana nodded after a moment. "All right."

"First things first," Nathan said, grinning as he stood from the rock. "We need…"

He trailed off suddenly, cocking his head to the side as if listening for something. Guy strained his ears as well, wondering what the half-elf vampire could possibly hear other than the crash of the ocean behind them and the howl of the wind.

Nathan lurched forward without warning, shoving Guy out of the way. Guy crashed to the ground a few feet away. He scrambled to his feet, only to find that a crossbow bolt had struck the ground where he had been standing just a moment ago.

"Dawnguard," Serana snarled, drawing several spells to her hand.

"Dawnguard?" Guy stammered, looking around at the forest before them, wondering who—or _what_ —was targeting them.

"Vampire hunters," Nathan explained, drawing his sword. "Guy, do me a favor and hide behind that rock."

"No problem," Guy agreed, hurriedly rushing over to the large boulder that the vampire had indicated. He crouched down behind it, his heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird. He peeked up over the rock just in time to see a large group of men and women in strange heavy armor emerge from the woods.

There had to be at least thirty of them, which seemed like a little bit of overkill to Guy. All of them carried axes and warhammers with the symbol of the sun emblazoned on them, and they looked at Nathan and Serana with hate in their eyes.

Oh, yes. These were vampire hunters. Guy felt his heart constrict in anger and fear when he saw them. A group of vampire hunters had taken his sister, Nora, from him. Were these ones trying to take away his two new friends?

"Is that you, Agmaer?" Nathan asked, his voice raised so that it would carry to a man in the center of the group.

The man in question appeared to be about Guy's age, with a poor excuse for a beard and long blonde hair that hung out from under his brown Dawnguard helmet. Still, the armor he wore and the two axes he wielded seemed to be very real, and very deadly.

"Nathan, you traitor," Agmaer spat, stepping forward. His eyes were narrowed angrily at the half-elf. "I should have known you'd turn on us eventually."

Nathan said nothing in response. His amber eyes seemed to be flicking over the assembled group of vampire slayers, which had closed in a circle around the two vampires (and one mortal). His grip tightened on his sword, and Guy thought he could see a thick bead of sweat make its way down Nathan's forehead.

Guy was no strategist, but even he understood that these were terrible odds, even for two vampires who no doubt knew a lot about combat. Even if Nathan and Serana could somehow manage to kill all of the Dawnguard, they'd likely be too injured to be of any use to anyone for a long time.

"Nothing to say, huh?" Agmaer asked. "Figures."

"Can't we work this out?" Nathan asked, even as Serana raised her hands in preparation next to him. "I don't think you want to do this, Agmaer."

"There's nothing _to_ work out," Agmaer retorted with a curse. "You're scum. _All_ vampires are scum."

" _Agmaer_ ," Nathan repeated, and this time there was something deadly serious about his voice, his demeanor. It was strange to see, for even though Guy had only been around the vampire for a short amount of time, the half-elf was usually cheery. "You _really…don't_ want to do this. I'm warning you."

And Agmaer did hesitate. It was brief, but it was just enough for Guy to be able to notice. Then the young vampire hunter shook his head and sneered.

"No." Then, to the men that he commanded, "Kill them!"

Guy heard Nathan give a rather long and vulgar curse as Serana unleashed ice spikes into the crowd of Dawnguard. One or two fell to her attack, but there were simply too many people for it to have made much of a difference.

Then Nathan took a step forward. There was something different about his posture, and his face looked…well, _angry._ Guy almost recoiled from the sight, but the next thing that happened kept him captivated.

Nathan opened his mouth…and _Shouted._

" _ZUN HAAL VIIK!"_

An explosion of pale blue light ripped from his mouth, slamming into the advancing ranks of the Dawnguard. As one, their weapons were ripped from their hands, flying off into the sea. Guy ducked down with a yelp as a war axe struck the top of the rock he was hiding behind.

The vampire hunters had half a second to look _terrified_ before Nathan shouted again.

" _FUS RO DAH!"_

Dark blue light exploded from him, hitting the Dawnguard with vicious force. They were all knocked backward, ripped from their feet like an invisible dragon had hooked them in its claws. Some of them hit trees, some of them hit the ground again, and some of them flew over the canopy, going far out of sight. None of them moved again.

In a few moments, Nathan had decimated the entire Dawnguard force. Yet he didn't look happy, or even relieved. Instead, his fists were clenched tightly, and at some point, his sword had clattered to the ground, unnoticed. His entire body had tensed, as if he had just started a fight and not ended one.

All these details flew right over Guy's head as he stood from behind the rock, jaw completely dropped. He'd heard the legends… _all_ Nords had…but to actually _see_ it…

"You're…you're—" Guy started, staring at Nathan in awe.

" _Dragonborn_ ," Nathan barked out, sounding incredibly angry. "Yeah. I _know_." He kicked a fallen Dawnguard member's axe out of the way. "Let's get moving before the crows find these bodies."

Guy had just made friends with the _Dragonborn._

No one was ever going to believe him.


	23. Chapter 23

An hour later, they sat in Guy's boat as the Nord navigated them around the coast, toward Solitude. They'd packed their things back into the boat as soon as Nathan had finished with the Dawnguard, and the ride had been dead silent the whole time.

That suited Nathan just fine. He was currently fighting back a flood of bad memories, and was in no mood for talking. The only thing that conversation would bring was questions that he didn't care to answer.

Still, if Serana and Guy _both_ didn't stop staring at him like he had grown a Khajiit head on the back of his shoulders, Nathan was going to have an aneurysm. Shouting wasn't _that_ unusual. Ulfric Stormcloak had the Voice. Granted, there hadn't been a Dragonborn for hundreds of years, but wasn't that secondary?

Nathan winced as he pulled his map out of his pack and laid it out on a bench. He had it mixed up. The _Dragonborn_ part was legendary—the shouting part was secondary. He was, after all, a living legend.

That thought made him want to vomit.

The boat lurched as Guy failed to adjust the sail in time, and Nathan frowned as sea spray blotted the edges of his map. Sighing, he folded up the parchment and looked up at his two traveling companions.

" _Somebody_ say something," he managed to bite out.

He almost winced again. Guy was staring at him with a fair bit of awe, as most people did when they found out the truth about who Nathan was. That didn't bother him (at least, not as much as it used to). No, what bothered him the most was the way Serana was looking at him.

It wasn't a glare. It wasn't awe. It wasn't even surprise. It was _pity._

It was almost too much his his confused and battered mind to handle. He didn't want pity. He'd never needed it. And he _certainly_ didn't want it from a woman he was in—

Infatuation. He certainly didn't want it from a woman he was infatuated with. That's what he meant to think.

"You're the Dragonborn," Guy repeated.

Nathan rolled his eyes and rubbed his face with one hand. "Yes, I think we've established that."

He knew he was being rude. All things considered, he thought he was doing fairly well at filtering out the more mean thoughts running through his head. It always happened whenever he thought of…certain events.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm just sick of the attention." And that was true. Being the Dragonborn was a full time job. Not just with the adventuring, but the fame. It was annoying.

"Why didn't you tell…us?" Serana asked.

She had been going to say "me." Traveling with another companion was going to be new for Nathan, too.

Oh, there were many reason why Nathan hadn't told her. For one, he didn't want her to treat him like most people did when they found out his identity—like he was some entity that needed to be worshipped. Looking back now, he should have known better. She wasn't that kind of person.

But the main reason he hadn't told her was because of all the bad memories it brought up. He felt a flash of anger just thinking about it.

"…it's complicated," Nathan settled for saying. Serana cocked an eyebrow, so he elaborated. "I just…" He sighed. "I don't like everything associated with it."

That look had returned to her eyes, but as he looked closer, he realized that it wasn't pity. It was sympathy—empathy. She understood.

How could she always understand? It was amazing.

"Besides," Serana said, grinning just slightly, "it was fairly obvious."

" _What?_ " Nathan demanded, leaning forward in surprise. "How?"

Her grin widened. "I mean, yeah. When you were teaching me about history, the Dragonborn was the one area you glossed over. And you faced down Durnehviir with no hesitation." She hesitated, and her expression turned mischievous. "Plus, you talk in your sleep."

Immediately, Nathan's ears reddened. Was she referring to the sleeping incident in the Soul Cairn? Despite the flush spreading across his face, he couldn't help but share in the grin.

Guy rolled his eyes and leaned against the sail, snapping Nathan out of it. Instantly, the bad memories battered against his mind again, and his grin vanished.

"We should, uh, plan the route," he said.

— **|||||||||||||||||||||||—**

Serana woke to the sound of thrashing.

She was on her feet in an instant, drawing her dagger and looking around the sailboat in alarm.

There were no bandits waiting to plunder them. There wasn't even a mudcrab nearby. Guy had anchored the sailboat on the shore of a riverbed, and the sun was just starting to set.

The problem lied with Nathan, who was lying on the floor of the boat. His hood had fallen down, and his face was coated in a thick layer of sweat. He was thrashing almost violently in his sleep, and was muttering nonsense. His face was twisted in pain, and it made Serana's heart constrict in her chest.

Guy was leaning over Nathan, looking concerned. He looked up at Serana as she crouched on the other side of the Dragonborn.

"He's been like this for an hour," Guy told her. "I tried to wake him up, but nothing worked."

Serana's stomach dropped as she looked back at Nathan's tortured form. He looked absolutely miserable, and she felt his pain as clearly as if it were her own.

"Nathan," she said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently. "Nathan, wake up!"

Under his eyelids, his eyes flickered wildly. Whatever kind of nightmare he was having, it was a bad one. She'd never seen him like this before. She knew that he would occasionally have nightmares—sometimes she'd wake up and hear him muttering nonsense like he was doing now. But nothing had ever worried her like this.

Nathan's body suddenly jerked as he sat upright, screaming at the top of his lungs _. "NO!"_

He whipped his head around wildly, as if trying to ascertain if the riverbed around them was reality. His whole body was trembling, and sweat dripped down his face in a flood. Yet when he realized that he was no longer dreaming, his body only tensed further.

"Are you all right, Nathan?" Serana asked, touching his arm slightly.

He jumped up as if he had been burned. Had the boat not been anchored and half seated on the riverbed, the whole thing would have tipped over. Nathan stumbled out of the boat and onto dry land like he was drunk, and he nearly fell face-first on the ground. He hesitated for a moment after he straightened, then strode off into the darkness.

Serana and Guy shared a troubled look. Nathan was acting as if he'd just lost a loved one.

"I'll go after him," she said, standing up and carefully stepping out of the boat.

Guy nodded and stood up, grabbing a small knife from off the bottom of the boat and looking around at the night. "I…guess I'll just stay here and guard the boat."

"You'll be fine," Serana told him.

Then she was going after Nathan, worry turning her inside-out.

She didn't have to look far. Only a few hundred feet out, Nathan was sitting on the ground, his back against a large rock. She paused when she saw him.

Nathan was crying.

This wasn't the "single-tear" kind of crying that she had come to expect from men on the rare occasion that they did cry. No, this was full-on crying, with shaking shoulders and loud, gasping sobs that wrenched pain from her chest with every shaky breath he took.

Her heart was thumping painfully when she saw him like that, but she tried to temper her reaction. Instead of running to him and strangling him in a hug, like her automatic reaction wanted, she sat down next to him quietly and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

That seemed to calm him a bit. He was still crying, but his shaking subsided somewhat, and the miserable look on his face seemed lessened, somehow.

"You want to know why I didn't tell you I was the Dragonborn?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Serana said nothing, but she looked up at him. He was staring at a rock in distance stubbornly, as if trying to turn it into gravel with the force of his gaze. His jaw was clenched tightly, and there seemed to be a million different emotions running through his eyes.

Eventually he spoke again, spitting out the words as if they were poison. "It's because whenever I Shout, people die. Lots of people."

That miserable look had returned, and Serana hated it.

She had known that Nathan had something troubling in his past—perhaps multiple somethings—but she'd never pressed him about it. After all, she knew that with her traumatic experiences, talking about it could bring up more pain. But she'd never imagined that Nathan would have something like this—something that engraved guilt so clearly on his usually grinning face.

Nathan leaned his head back against the rock they sat against. "I never told you what the Dragonb—what _I_ did after I defeated Alduin, did I?"

Serana shook her head. She was worried that anything she said would deter him from sharing with her.

He closed his eyes as he spoke. "I was attacked by a group of cultists one day, who accused me of being a 'false Dragonborn.' I went to Solstheim to investigate who had sent them to kill me."

Serana had learned about Solstheim in their history lessons together. Half the island had been covered in ash due to the eruption of Red Mountain, creating a strange series of wildlife. And Nathan had gone there?

She listened in rapt attention as he continued. "I found a cult dedicated to a man named Miraak. And then I found a black book. It was made by Hermaeus Mora."

She almost started in surprise. She hadn't figured Nathan as someone to hang around with a Daedric Prince. Not like she had.

"It took me to Apocrypha, Hermaeus Mora's realm of Oblivion. I learned that Miraak was trying to reenter the world, and that he needed my soul to do it. Hermaeus Mora helped me learn a new shout to defeat Miraak." Nathan squeezed his eyes shut even further. "But there was a price.

"In order to give me the final word of the shout, he asked for the knowledge of a small Nord tribe living in the northern half of the island. They were warriors, but they lived a peaceful life. They were also masters at crafting with stalhrim, a type of enchanted ice."

Nathan reached for the sheath at his ankle and withdrew the dagger he kept there. Serana cocked her head at it. It was a cobalt blue, but it looked as if it had been crafted directly from ice. It radiated a cool temperature, and looked sharp enough to cut through a horker's hide.

"The village shaman, a man named Storn Crag-Strider, gave me this." Nathan chuckled once humorlessly. "He said I needed it to watch my back." He closed his eyes again. "Storn agreed to give up the Skaal's secrets to Hermaeus Mora so that I could learn the final word of the shout. Mora killed him."

There was a ragged emotion in Nathan's voice, and Serana suspected that he had replayed this event countless times in his head. She also suspected that he needed to get it off his chest.

"I defeated Miraak before he could return to the world, but when I returned to the Skaal village…" Nathan trailed off, and the tears started anew. His expression suddenly turned angry, and when he opened his eyes, there was a strange fire burning in them.

"The entire village had been decimated." His jaw was so tight that Serana suspected that not even horker grease could loosen it. "The cultists who followed Miraak had killed them all as revenge. There wasn't a single survivor." He ran a hand through his hair aggressively. "All because I had to learn one more shout."

 _Ah,_ Serana thought. The pieces began to fall into place. Nathan tried to avoid shouting and telling people who he was because he felt responsible for the death of an entire peaceful village. No wonder he was so hesitant to tell her.

But hadn't he also told her not to blame herself for the situation with her parents? How could he not see the similarities between these two situations?

"It's not your fault," Serana told him, her voice determined.

He looked down at her, a sad look in his eyes. "How can you say that? If I hadn't been looking for that shout, none of those people would have died."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice in the matter, and you couldn't control what those cultists did." She paused. "The whole thing was orchestrated by Hermaeus Mora, Nathan."

He frowned, considering her words. She had no way of knowing whether or not he'd already thought of what she'd just said, but she could see the gears in his head turning.

"You're a good person," she told him, to further reinforce what she already knew. "It wasn't your fault."

Nathan looked away at her words, doubt flickering across his face. "That's…" He swallowed. "I've done some…pretty terrible things, Serana. You wouldn't say that if you knew me when I first came to Skyrim. The Skaal massacre is not the only splotch of red on my ledger."

Serana paused at that. It was hard to imagine Nathan as anything other than the kind, generous person she knew him to be. Hell, he had offered to help Guy, despite the fact that he'd only just met the kid and that he would be helping another Daedric Prince! If he wasn't a good person, then no one was.

She tried her best to give him a reassuring smile and squeezed his shoulder. "The fact that you feel remorse about it should tell you that you _are_ a good person."

Now it was his turn to pause, his face taking on a confused look, as if he hadn't thought of that before. Then, he frowned. "You don't want to know what I did?"

Serana wondered about that for a moment, and then shook her head. "I'm not interested in who you used to be. I'm interested in who you are now." And then, despite the seriousness of the situation, she felt a flush spread across her face. She had made sound like she was _interested_ in him, when she…well, she was, but…not…

She bit her tongue to keep herself from saying something stupid. Right now, Nathan needed a friend, not…whatever else they were to each other. Certainly something deeper than friends, by now. She wondered for a moment how _that_ had happened and then decided that it was actually fairly easy to become…what they were.

"What was your nightmare about?" she asked, partly to distract herself from the melting pot of emotions inside herself.

He looked down at his hands. "I dreamed about the Skaal being massacred. Over and over again, while I watched."

"I'm sorry," Serana said, and she meant it wholeheartedly. For Nathan to have been through something like that, and still be the way he was—goofy, kind, empathetic—was truly amazing. How did he do it? Serana's experiences had made her bitterly sarcastic and closed off. Nathan's seemed to have done the opposite for him. He was… _wonderful_.

She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but a shout cut through the night—the normal kind.

"GUYS?" It was Guy. "I NEED SOME—OUCH!"

Nathan and Serana shared a worried look before they were on their feet and running off into the night to rescue their wayward boatman.

* * *

 **Wow, guess who's still alive? I am _so_ sorry for the long wait (almost a year? i feel really bad about it), but I had some family things to take care of, plus school (I'm a senior now? wild) and a bunch of other things and I sort of forgot about the story.**

 **But...16,000 VIEWS? HELLO? THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH EVEN THOUGH I WENT MIA?**

 ***ahem* That being said, I have no idea when the next update will be, since I'm mostly going through and editing the previous chapters so that they make more sense, fixing errors, stuff like that. I've only uploaded the edited chapter one, but it'll definitely be worth a second look (which you might need considering the gap? again, so sorry), b/c I'm adding some parts and taking away others.**

 **And as always, please leave a review for my poor battered writer soul :)**


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